Going For The Hat-Trick
by dipdipdipmyblueship
Summary: Another 'What-If' scenario. Set in March 2012.
1. Chapter 1

"Peter?"

Her eyes fluttered but she could not open them, groaning instead in reaction to the searing pain that flashed behind them at the slightest of movements.

"Carla?"

Her mouth hung limply open as she tried to respond to the voice that called to her. As body failed to respond to her desire to both move and speak, her mind began to race.

_Who was calling her?_

_Who was in the flat?_

_Why couldn't she move or respond?_

Panic set in as she tried desperately to remember where she was and what had happened to her.

Her limbs began to shake profusely, and it was in that moment that she realized she was lying on some sort of carpeted surface; her cheek pressed into the cushioned, yet not soft material beneath her face. She let out a cry of pain as she attempted to move; an intense, scorching burn pulsed through her body and rendered her utterly helpless.

"Did you hear that?" the soft male voice asked

"Oh, I wouldn't bother worrying. They're probably both drunk off their faces!" she recognized the second voice all too well, and a shudder coursed through her, "you should have seen the pair of 'em yesterday, fighting over that bottle of whiskey like it was their oxygen-"

"Leanne, please!" the male voice gently scolded the snappy blonde.

Carla let out another whimper as she tried to call out to them and she heard soft footfalls enter the room where she lay prone on the floor…

_…wherever that was…_

_**"Granddad!"**_

Simon's scream coursed through her pounding head and ripped into her very soul. She tried to open her eyes but again they stubbornly refused to comply.

"Carla! Carla!" she heard Simon drop to his knees in front of her, his little hands reaching out and gently shaking her shoulder, "please wake up! I'm sorry!" he sobbed to her, his tears splashing upon her exposed cheek. She could only groan softly as the sound of two others footfalls pounded into the room.

"Oh my God!" Leanne screeched.

Her ex-friend lay awkwardly curled into a ball upon the floor next to the bed, the sheets lay twisted around her midsection as though she had fallen off the mattress. Her legs were bare beneath the short black skirt of her black, body hugging dress; her stockings having been torn to scraps and flung over the headboard. The top of her dress had been viciously ripped open, her bra exposed but yet hidden by her leopard-print shirt. Blood was oozing and staining the carpet from a wound along her hairline, her exposed skin littered with red marks.

"Where the hell is Peter?!" Ken's voice boomed angrily as he crouched down next to Carla's head

"Why won't she wake up?" Simon asked as he sobbed

"Come on Si," Leanne called to him rather shakily, "Let's give Carla some air okay?"

Carla could hear as Simon was pulled to his feet, his sobbing protests becoming muffled as Leanne presumably hugged him to her

"Uh yes, an ambulance please!" Ken said into the phone receiver, his hand gently stroking Carla's matted and bloodied hair.

Leanne re-entered the room, "you don't think-" she swallowed the lump in her throat as she gazed down on the battered and bruised woman upon the floor, "you don't think that Peter's done this to her do you?"

"No," Ken quickly answered forcefully, his tone aghast at the very notion, "Even drunk, Peter would never lay a finger on Carla, especially not after what's happened to her…" his fingers brushed down to Carla's neck, deftly feeling a pulse. "Yes, we need an ambulance to 19 Rosamund Street. It's a flat above a bookie's," Ken covered the receiver with his hand, "Leanne," he whispered to her, "grab that throw over the chair, toss it over her and keep her warm. I'm going to go wait outside for the ambulance."

Carla felt Ken rise to his feet, and Leanne crouch down seconds later; a soft, warm fleece blanket was laid over her and she felt her fingers being grasped gently by Leanne's and squeezed reassuringly.

"Hang in there Car, help is on the way," Leanne whispered to the unconscious woman, wiping a tear from her own horrified eyes, "please just hang on…"


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: Thank you all for the amazing response to the story so far.**_

* * *

_**Five hours earlier…**_

She squeezed her eyes shut as the memory replayed for the thousandth time in her mind. Her palms pressed into the granite counter of the kitchenette in the flat she had recently come to share with Peter…

_"I'd rather be an alcoholic than a rapist." _

_She had whispered the words venomously and tried to brush past him, only to be apprehended angrily. He gripped both of her arms and pinning them painfully to her sides, Frank pushed her forcibly against the railing behind her. The anger emulating off of him frightened her once more; his eyes darkening just as they had that night in September…_

_"I was cleared," he stated chillingly, "in a court of law."_

_"Wh-why can't you just admit it, eh? Is it guilt, is it shame- or are you just not man enough?" she pushed against him with a fierceness that surprised them both. But they both knew it was an act, and he could see through it, her body was trembling beneath his grip, and he was enjoying every moment of it._

_"Ooo now she's challenging my masculinity?" He taunted her; he wanted a fight out of her. He meant what he said to her just days after her mother died, when he finally managed to gain her trust, __'all women are resistible when they're incapable.'__ He wouldn't want her if there wouldn't be a struggle. He wanted a fight; he wanted her to resist…_

… _and he wanted to dominate her._

_"Oh I wanna hear the words come out of your mouth!" She gritted her teeth willing the tears not to fall, as she pushed against his hold on her again._

_"Which words Carla? Which words?" he patronized her. "I raped you?" He watched her blink back the tears, hope clinging desperately to her features and he smugly gave in, "I raped you." He confirmed it, watching the relief wash over her beautiful face, "__**I**__raped__**you. **__There's your confession." His grip loosened on her arms before tightening again, as if massaging them in loving reassurance; his desire for her was reaching its peak, and yet he still wanted to break her down further, "Now does that make you feel better, only I did feel bad about it," he watched as her eyes softened, "-for a little bit." He heard the soft sob involuntarily escape her lips. "But you betrayed me, and it was your fault."_

_At this she pushed angrily against him as if to hit him and run, but he had the upper hand as always, his strength rendering her weak and helpless as his grip tightened on her arms; "No, no, no, you should know by now, you picked the wrong person to fight with." The anger behind her eyes was evident, but he could still see that she was frightened of what he could possibly do next, and he craved that emotion like a drug; he __**needed**__ her to fear him again._

_"Today was the best," he said smugly as his arousal grew, "taking __your__ factory. Hey, that means I've screwed you twice." Her eyes filled with tears; fear was making its way back across her features. _

_He had her right where he wanted her._

_Pressing in close to her so she could feel his arousal, his arm snaked down around her waist and he lowered his voice to a seductive yet threatening register, "you fancy goin' for the hat trick?" _

_He chuckled as he felt it; she had become paralyzed with fear again; her body trembling violently as if knowing what was coming. Letting out a shaky breathe she glanced over to the bottle beside her and he smirked at her futile attempts. But as his hand creeped further down her body and hovered above her thigh, she felt a rush of adrenaline course through her veins. With a strength she didn't know she possessed, she pushed him off of her and ran down the steps of the factory._

"_I'll take that as a raincheck then shall I darling?" he laughed after her, "See you soon Carla!" He shouted warningly as she pushed her way out of the main doors._

Unable to stand upright any longer, Carla exhaled and dropped her elbows onto the counter, allowing her head to fall into her hands. Her fingers gently grasped her hair as her heart continued to pound erratically in her chest.

Tonight had been too close of a call. _'What were you thinking going back there alone you stupid cow?'_ her conscience chastised her. In her heart she knew the answer, she just needed to hear him say it; she needed him to admit once and for all what he did to her. But even as the words flew past his lips, she felt no gratification. No satisfaction. He had smugly got away with his assault on her, managed to turn the whole street against her: the _'homewrecking liar'_ who cried rape the night before her wedding. He then tortured her in the factory for weeks after the trial; his eyes undressing her in the office, his body close enough to touch her, and the whole time he was scheming to swindle her out of her business, a feat he achieved with his record smugness earlier this evening. Underworld: the last memory of Paul and Liam that she had desperately clung to since their tragic deaths, was now _his_…

Frank Foster.

That man has been nothing short of a nightmare since setting foot in her life.

The whistle of the kettle brought her back to the present; with a sigh of frustration, she opened her tear-filled eyes and moved to remove the kettle from the heat. She poured the boiling water into her mug, watching absent-mindedly as the tea bag puffed and rose to the surface; its leaves inking the water below it.

Placing the kettle back down she glanced at her mobile again. There was still no word from Peter, and she was too terrified to make her way over to Ken and Dierdre's to inform them. She hugged the mug between her palms and looked towards the window. It was still dark out; not that she expected it to be light at three in the morning, but she wished for daybreak to come sooner rather than later and bring with it her lover and confidante who was probably passed out in a drunken haze on a park bench somewhere.

Her mobile vibrated and she grasped at it hurriedly, her breath hitching in her throat.

_Where are you?_

_M_

The words flashed upon the screen with such urgency she couldn't help but chuckle at imagining her best friend's voice behind the words she must of frantically typed. Still holding her mug in one hand, Carla began to type a response to Michelle when the buzzer to the flat pierced the silence around her. She hurriedly dropped the mobile on the counter with her mug, and pressed the receiver to her ear

"Hello?" she asked timidly.

She could only hear a grunt in response.

"Peter?" She asked with a sudden rush of hopefulness. She was met with another drunken grunt and assumed he had lost his keys; she pressed the buzzer to allow him access only to be met with a broken sound. She hung up the receiver and opened the door, quickly descending down the steps to the main entrance.

Her hand grasped the knob of the door and she paused almost instantly; she felt a small twinge of hesitation deep within the pit of her stomach; a small flicker of apprehension, as if alerting her to danger.

Something wasn't right…

She let go of the handle and took a step back just as a key slid into the keyhole.

She breathed a sigh of relief at the sound; only Peter, Ken, and Leanne had a key besides herself. She felt her body relax ever so slightly until the door swung open and she found herself stood face to face with _him_…

Her eyes wide with panic, she quickly tried to force the door closed but he shoved back, edging his foot into foyer and giving a sharp push, causing her to fall against the wall behind the entrance. He stepped around the door and slammed it closed, his eyes glinting and his lips turned up in a sneer

"Where is it Carla?" Frank spat angrily

Her brow furrowed in confusion, "w-what are you talking about?"

"Don't play games with me!" he shouted, his hand reaching out and grasping a fistful of her hair. Her hands flew up to her scalp as he viciously pulled her towards him. He yanked her hair down, forcing her terrified eyes to look into his wild, angry ones. Leaning in close so his lips grazed her cheek he lowered his voice to a whisper, "Trying to pull a fast one on me eh? You never learn do you?"

Her eyes filled with unshed tears and she willed every muscle in her body to cease its quivering

"F-Frank I don't know what you're on about-"

"You hard-faced cow!" he sneered, flinging her forward and watching as her head cracked upon the edge of the fourth step. His eyes not leaving her, he reached over and turned the padlock, hearing the satisfying click of the door locking.

She could see nothing but little black spots before her. She shook her head slightly in an attempt to remove the fuzziness but was hit with a sharp pain that wracked her whole skull. Her fingers gingerly reached up to the step above her and she tried meekly to pull herself up.

"Carla, Carla, Carla" Frank tutted her mockingly, "just tell me where it is and we'll forget this ever happened."

"W-where…w-what…is…?" she groaned between gasps

"Alright my dear," His voice took on a sinister tone, "don't want to tell me willingly eh?" She felt her whole body begin to tense, her muscles now pulsing with tepid energy as she heard him edge closer to her prone form, "well then, I guess I'll have to think of some _other_ way to make you talk…"

With a grunt, she kicked her left leg back, feeling it connect just below Frank's pelvis. He let out a cry of pain and doubled over but let out a sigh of relief that she had caught him just above his family jewels.

His eyes darkened with a sick pleasure as he watched her attempt to scramble up the stairs on all fours. With an evil smirk he reached out, grasped her ankles and yanked hard, glaring in satisfaction as her head again connected with the edge of the step as she slid back down the stairs towards him.

Her body lay motionless as he peered over her shoulder. With a snicker, he wrapped his hands around her, twisting her until he could scoop her up into his arms, and he carried her up the stairs and into the flat, closing the door behind him.

He took a moment to glance around the flat, noting with obvious disgust its humble set-up and modest furnishings. Carla stirred in his arms, slowly awakening from her unconscious state as he walked to the small hallway beside the kitchen and into the bedroom on the right. Her eyes began to flutter open as he laid her upon the bed, turning back to close and lock the door behind him.

She rolled her head from side to side, noting the plush softness and coolness of the pillow beneath her pounding head. She blinked furiously in an attempt to focus her vision.

"So this is your new home is it Carla?" Frank's gentle voice coursed through her body, sending it aflutter with tremors. "Not quite the posh set-up you're accustomed to is it?" he chuckled tauntingly as she tried to regain her wits, "never thought you'd like to slum it my dear, but then again, 'you can take the girl out of the estate but not the estate out of the girl', hey?"

Her head lolled to the side, her unfocused eyes pinned on his form as he stalked towards the bed. She could feel the blood trickling down her face from her hairline, and as she took in her surroundings she began to panic at her vulnerable state.

"Please Frank," she begged hoarsely, "please just go, I won't tell anyone-" she was cut off as his hand dove around her throat.

"Won't tell anyone what, Carla?" he taunted her, "do you honestly think anyone will believe a heartless, homewrecking cheat, a _slag_ over me?"

She bit her lip as her eyes gushed with tears and she broke down helplessly into sobs. "Shhh," Frank cooed, his hand coming up and caressing her cheek, "shhh sweetheart; just tell me where it is Carla and I'll leave you to your new life with your alchy boyfriend and your tacky little flat."

"P-please Frank," she pleaded through sobs, "I-I don't know what you-you're on about!"

He sighed as he gazed into her terrified eyes, "then I guess I'll have to find another way to torture it out of you hey?" his hand began to slide down her body as he leaned in close to her face

"Time to call in that raincheck darling," he whispered viciously, "what better way to score my hat-trick eh? In the bed that you share with the 'love of your life'."

She opened her mouth to scream but Frank quickly silenced her with a bruising kiss, his hands deftly tearing at her clothes as he climbed over her squirming body…


	3. Chapter 3

"Come on Si, you've got to eat something love," Leanne gently coaxed the young boy while they sat with Ken in the cafe. She kept glancing out the window towards the bookie's flat, which was now swarming with police cruisers and curious street bystanders. She had felt it best that Simon not go into school following what they had stumbled across in the bedroom that she used to share with Peter that morning, hoping she could talk to him and make him understand a little of what he had witnessed, but the young lad continued to simply stare at his plate, his eyes continuously filling with tears and his lower lip quivering.

With a crooked smile, Leanne reached over and caressed her step-son's head, "talk to me Si," she tried again, "you can ask anything you want, you know that."

Simon took a moment, exhaled a long breath, and without looking up, finally spoke; "it's my fault," he sniffled, "I know it is."

"Simon, what do you mean?" Ken prodded gingerly

The young boy's lips began to quiver more prominently, "it's cause I lied about Carla hitting me, and because I told dad that I hate him."

"No Si, that's not why-" Leanne tried to reassure him

"It is! I know it is! I didn't want to be nice to her, because then I was afraid you wouldn't come back. She's not that horrible really, but I still acted like I hated her. And if I had been nicer then maybe dad wouldn't have drank-"

"What makes you think your dad was drinking Simon?" Ken asked, already knowing the answer

"I heard mum saying it," Leanne looked guiltily up at Ken as Simon continued, "she said they were fighting over a bottle last night."

Ken looked at his former daughter-in-law and shook his head disapprovingly, "Simon," he began tenderly, "I know what you must be thinking about your dad, but he has had a very rough couple of days and the temptation to drink was just too much for him to handle-"

"But why did he have to hit Carla?" Simon whimpered

"Simon," his grandfather reached over and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, "your father would _never_ hit Carla. He would do anything in his power to protect those that he cares about-"

"So then where is he?" Simon dropped his head into his folded arms upon the table

"Look Si," Leanne stated softly, "why don't you go up and buy yourself a nice treat yeah? Your granddad and I will try to get in touch with your dad again, okay?"

Raising his head, Simon sniffled and nodded. Running the back of his hand under his nose, he reached out and accepted the money Leanne handed to him and headed over to the counter.

"Leanne this has got to stop," Ken scolded her firmly, "this talking about Carla and Peter in front of Simon is just manipulative! No good can come of this."

"Well it wasn't intentional," She replied defensively

"It never is," Ken shot back, "but the way you and Peter are acting is childish and selfish! Peter cheated on you, but let's not forget that you did the same to him just over a year ago. You're both as bad as each other but you cannot go around using that poor child as an emotional battering ram! I will not have it anymore Leanne, I'm warning you now."

"I know, you're right; it's just" Leanne responded quietly, her head lowering to the table, "I don't know…Ken, I despise Carla for what she's done to our friendship; stealing my husband, moving into the flat…" she shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut, "but then this morning, when I saw her lying there on the floor, looking like someone tossed her around like a rag doll, I just- I just couldn't breathe for a while there. I couldn't help but see her as my best friend, you know? The one who survived Tony's attempted murder-suicide plot,-"

"It was shocking to say the least," Ken whispered with a shudder, "do you think someone forced their way in last night?"

Leanne shook her head, "the police said there was a key found just beyond the door. So whoever it was had access to the flat."

Ken furrowed his brow, "but the only people who have a key are you, me, Carla and-"

"-and Peter." Leanne finished, her eyes probing Ken's apprehensively

Ken shook his head, "No Leanne,"

"Ken, you and I both know what he's like when he's drinking," Leanne tried to reason with him, "And with everything falling down around his ears and me threatening to take Simon, he might of lost his temper and lashed out-"

"No!" Ken whispered forcefully, his fist pounding on the table for emphasis, "Peter has made a lot of mistakes in his life Leanne, I'll attest to that, but my son would never hit a woman; I know that for a fact!"

"Dad!" Simon's voice shook them out of their conversation in time to see the young lad exit the café hastily

"Si!" Leanne shouted after him, as her and Ken quickly followed Simon out onto the cobbles, laying eyes on the rather disheveled looking bookie.

"Peter!" Ken called to his son, who was staggering slowly outside of the café. Peter turned to the voice, his eyes closing in frustration at the lecture he would no doubt be receiving. As he faced his father, he found himself stumbling back as Simon launched himself into his arms.

"Si?" Peter hugged his son closer in confusion, "why aren't you in school?"

"Peter, where the hell have you been?" Ken hissed at him.

"Oh look dad," Peter began dismissively, his hand coming up to massage his pounding head, "just spare me the lectures yeah? Not now. I have to find Carla, get a cup of coffee down me throat, and see if we can't sort this factory business stuff out."

"Peter-" Leanne began

"Oh and here comes the cavalry," Peter mocked, his hand rising and falling back to his side for effect. He turned his blazing brown eyes back onto his father, "just had to bring her along didn't you? For what eh? Moral support? Let me know how disappointed you all are in me?" his lip turned into a sneer, and he moved in a little closer, "well I hate to burst your fun bubble but I already have a pounding headache, and I don't fancy a nagging one an' all."

"Peter you don't understand-" Leanne tried to interject but her ex had already turned his back on them, his eyes falling upon the flashing lights of the cop cars outside his flat. Panic overtook him and he whipped back to face his father and ex-wife.

"What's happened?" he asked, "where's Carla?" he pressed more forcibly

"She's at hospital," Ken responded somberly, "taken there by ambulance not an hour ago."

"Hospital? Why?" Peter could feel his heart beating erratically in his chest, "is she on her own?"

"She's not on her own, Michelle's gone with her." Leanne responded, her eyes flicking between Peter and her step-son, who remained clinging to his father's torso, "she was still unconscious when they left."

Peter shifted his gaze onto Leanne, his eyes becoming hard and accusatory, "what did you do?" he ground out, his tone low and dangerous

Leanne snorted defensively, "Me? I did nothing but make sure your lover stayed warm while the ambulance was on its way!"

"Wait," Peter shook his head in confusion, "you were in the flat?" at Leanne's sideways glance to Ken, Peter felt his anger rise, "_**what the hell were you doing in my flat?"**_ he shouted angrily

"Oh but it's not just your flat anymore is it?" Leanne shouted back, her back now well and truly up, "it's yours and _hers_ now eh? Never mind all of the memories that _we_ had in there as a family-"

"Oh don't start this again," Peter snapped, "you have no business being in that flat anymore Lea, and I'll be damned if you think you can just come and go as you please!"

"Well it was a good thing I did happen to 'come and go' today though isn't it? Si forgot his schoolbook, and I called and called but no one was answering the phone. So Ken and I decided to head in ourselves to see what kind of a state the two of you must of been in to not answer the bloody telephone while our Si grabbed his books!"

"Why did you do it dad?" Simon asked quietly, pulling the adults from their heated argument

Peter dropped to his knees and grasped his son by the shoulders, "do what son?" he asked him softly

"Why did you beat up Carla?" Simon sobbed

Peter felt his heart lurch in his chest and bile rise in his throat, "what?" he whispered in horror

"Why did you hurt Carla? I didn't mean to be so mean to her, I'm sorry. I'll try harder to be nice to her I promise!" his son continued to cry softly

Peter couldn't believe his ears, "Simon, you don't think I would-" he couldn't piece together the end of the sentence, his thoughts were ricocheting off his very skull; _Carla was battered? In their flat?_ It suddenly dawned on him who was responsible for the attack; that bastard Frank Foster was sure to have been behind it all. But for some reason, Peter couldn't remove himself from where he remained just outside the café; caught in a battle of wills with his ex-wife. He needed to project some of his anger onto her, after all had she not returned back to the street then Simon would have eventually come around to Carla, and she wouldn't have felt the need to sell up the factory to her rapist!

His eyes again met Leanne's and he shook his head angrily as he rose to his full height, "This is all down to you isn't it?" he accused her furiously, "You just couldn't stay away; couldn't leave well enough alone. Are you so desperate to take _**my**_ son off my hands that you will convince him that I beat up my girlfriend?"

"You are unbelievable!" Leanne shouted at him, "Your son came up with that conclusion all on his own after seeing Carla unconscious beside your bed; and your dad and I have been sat there trying to convince him otherwise ever since!"

"You are a piece of work you know that?" Peter ground out

"Enough!" Ken shouted at the two of them, "stop your petty bickering for goodness sake!" his eyes glared into his son's, "Carla is in the hospital right now possibly fighting for her life and you're here making ridiculous accusations?"

"Mr. Barlow?" a voice sounded from behind them and Peter hurriedly turned to face a stern looking officer,

"Yes?" He responded, gently prying Simon off of him and guiding him into Ken's welcoming arms.

"Are you the Mr. Barlow that lives at 19 Rosamund Street?" the officer asked

"Yes I am." Peter responded, desperately wishing his hangover away

"And you live there with?"

"My son here, Simon, and my girlfriend Carla Connor."

"And when did you last see Ms. Connor?"

"Last night. My ex-wife came into the flat to have words and Carla left."

"And you didn't see her after that?" The officer asked pointedly, his eyebrow raising curiously

"No, I didn't. Please can you tell me what's happened to her?" Peter pleaded

"Would you mind stepping over here with me for a moment please sir?" the officer asked, gesturing his arm to where two detectives stood patiently waiting.

"Yeah of course." Peter responded as he walked towards them; Ken, Leanne and Simon close behind

"Mr. Barlow I'm Detective Stopher," the older of the two men introduced himself, "and this here is Detective Gregory," he gestured to the younger man on his right, "Can you tell me where you were earlier this morning around 3:00 am?"

Peter shook his head in embarrassment, "I uhhh, I don't know?"

"You _don't know_ where you were?" Detective Gregory reaffirmed, as he busily scribbled away on the pad he was holding.

The bookie shook his head, "no, I uhh, I'm a recovering alcoholic you see, and I fell off the wagon last night-"

"Are you prone to violence whilst drinking Mr. Barlow?" Stopher questioned methodically

"What? No, not at all-"

"Then why did your son think you were the one who assaulted Ms. Connor?" Gregory asked sharply

"Oh come on now," Peter scoffed disbelievingly, "he's a kid, his imagination has just run away with him that's all-"

"Mr. Barlow could you do us a favour and give us your flat keys?" Gregory interrupted him

"Why?" Peter asked in utter confusion

"Just procedure, Mr. Barlow." Stopher responded rather snidely.

"Okay," Peter grumbled as he began searching his pockets, "look could you at least fill me in as to what's happened? I only just got here and I'd like to get over to the hospital and check on my girlfriend as soon as."

"All in due time Mr. Barlow," Stopher said. He watched as the bookie anxiously checked his pockets in frustration, unable to find his keys. "Problem, Mr. Barlow?"

"No uhh," Peter exhaled deeply, "I must have lost my flamin' flat keys last night."

"Oh I'm sure they're around here somewhere…" Stopher responded pointedly

"How do you mean?" Peter asked

"Is this your key Mr. Barlow?" Gregory asked, holding up a small silver key

"Well it looks like it, but where's the rest of my keys then?" Peter asked in sheer confusion

"We were hoping you could tell us that," Gregory responded before nodding to Peter's hand, "and while you're at it, do you mind explaining where you got those cuts across your knuckles from?"

Peter could suddenly see where they were heading with this and took a defiant step backwards, "oh no," he stated shaking his head, "you're not trying to say that I did this to her?" Their lack of response further fueled his defensive state, "You're crazy, the both of you! I love her I would never hurt her! This is down to that lying bastard Frank Foster-"

"Mr. Barlow?" Stopher began slowly, "could you kindly remove your jacket?"

"What? Why?" Peter's brow furrowed apprehensively

"Please remove your jacket sir, now!" Gregory ordered him

The bookie let out a sigh of frustration and slid the jacket off his shoulders. A collective gasp was heard around him, and his eyes were drawn down to the blood staining his white shirt.

"Oh my God," Leanne choked out, her hand flying up to her mouth to halt the sob that threatened to pass her lips.

"Peter-" Ken whispered hoarsely

"Peter Barlow," Stopher began as he approached the shocked bookie, "I'm placing you under arrest for the suspected assault of Carla Connor-"

"No!" Peter shouted shaking his head, "no this is all a big misunderstanding-"

"You do not have to say anything-" Stopher continued as an officer grasped Peter's wrists and twisted them behind his back

"No I'm telling you, you've got the wrong man!" Peter shouted

"-But it may harm your defence if you do not mention, when questioned, something which you later rely on in court-"

"Dad," Peter called to Ken, as he was slapped into handcuffs and dragged back towards a cruiser, "It's Frank! This is all down to Frank! Find a way to prove it please!"

"Anything you do say may be given in evidence-"

"Leanne, please!" Peter begged, "please you know I didn't do this!" His ex simply stood there watching him, her eyes brimming with tears as she took in all that just occurred

"Do you understand?" Stopher finished as Peter's head was pushed down into the backseat of the cruiser.

As the car began to pull off down the road, Simon pulled free of his grandfather's hold, breaking into a run and shouting for his dad as the car disappeared out of sight. He felt two arms wrap around him and broke down sobbing in the street in his step-mother's arms.

And in the café window…Frank watched on with amusement…


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thank you all for the amazing response to this fic so far. A special shout-out to Noeme and LoveeCarlaConnor for their tips and support on this particular update.**

**I want to give a bit of a disclaimer about this chapter, so bear with me. I very rarely write characters breaking out into song, unless I feel it rather poignant: sang as a lullaby, or as a light-hearted attempt to cheer another character up. In this chapter, please note that the 'singing' is not meant to be seen as theatrical singing. It is the type of singing we do in a whisper of sorts; paying no mind to tone, or key, or strength, or musicality. It is simply driven by sheer raw emotion; a truth behind the words as you sing to yourself in a low voice when you believe no one is around. Please keep that in mind while reading this as it will (hopefully) lower the cheese or corniness factor of the scene that I am alluding to. **

**Thanks again for all your kind words and support. I hope this chapter was worth the wait. :)**

* * *

Michelle apprehensively hugged her arms around her abdomen as she walked slowly down the hallway. She stopped just outside the intensive care room she had been looking for and peered through the window. Raising her hand to her mouth, she began to nervously bite her thumbnail as she observed the woman, her sister-in-law, that she had come to deem as her best friend.

Carla lay in the bed just beyond the glass, her head turned from Michelle's scrutinizing gaze. She was hooked to an IV; her arms and head were littered with scattered gauze bandages, which were successfully soaking up the blood that oozed from various wounds.

Michelle covered her mouth as she tried to suppress a sob. Her eyes, so red and raw from crying earlier, now began to overflow again. She had held Carla's hand in the ambulance the whole way to the hospital; her eyes had taken in the unconscious form of her best friend, but her injuries somehow did not look quite as bad as they did right now.

_Twice_ her best friend had been raped.

_Twice_ in six months.

And by the same man - no, no, not a man - by a monster. A vicious, vile, evil incarnate monster...

...and somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind, her subconscious was snidely reminding her of whose fault it was this time around.

She had been desperately trying to reach Carla following her own confrontation with Frank in the factory. A confrontation where she had feigned an attempt to reason with him in order to access the office in the hopes that she could find something, anything, that could thwart his devious plans to turn the factory she had come to love into a warehouse.

She knew she only had mere moments when he went to take a call on his mobile, and she couldn't believe her luck when she saw the contract peeking over the side of his briefcase as it lay upon the desk. She had deftly pulled it out and let out a sigh of relief at realizing it was the original. Folding it as small as possible she shoved it in her purse and emptied her desk of the few pictures of Ryan, her brothers and Carla, and walked as calmly as she entered out of the factory doors, being sure to throw a snarl at Frank as she did so.

She had sent texts to Carla the moment she locked herself back in her flat. She needed to warn her to steer clear of Frank in case he should find the contract missing without obviously saying so in a text or call that could be traced back to her.

But Carla didn't answer her texts…not one of them. She assumed her friend had her hands full trying to sober up a very drunk Peter, and so she decided to head to bookie's flat the very next morning to decide, together, what to do about the contract.

But when she arrived to see ambulances and coppers flooding the street, her deepest fears took complete control of her senses, and she pushed her way through the number of police officers who tried in vain to halt her as she barreled up the stairs to the flat, calling Carla's name the whole way up.

When she saw her best friend being lifted onto a gurney, she knew immediately that it was Frank who attacked her yet again, and this time she knew it was because of something that _she_ had in her possession.

'_Frank must have assumed it was Carla that took them papers,' _she thought as she stared through the glass, _'but how? Carla didn't go back to the factory that night.'_ Michelle's brow furrowed as her mind began running through various scenarios. _'or did she?'_

Taking a deep breath, Michelle wiped the tears from her cheeks and opened the door to the hospital room. Upon hearing the noise Carla slowly turned her gaze to rest upon her sister-in-law.

"Hiya," she croaked, flashing her a crooked smile, "I think the 'ospital staff are gonna make this me own personal room," she joked half-heartedly

"Carla-" Michelle whispered as she approached the bed, knowing her best friend was trying to laugh off the seriousness of the situation

"Mind you, the amount of times I've been in 'ere since September…" Carla continued, now avoiding Michelle's sympathetic eyes, "not exactly surprising is it?" When she finally looked back to her, she narrowed her green eyes in frustration, "don't look at me like that 'Chelle."

"Like what?"

"Like I'm some poor cow-" her voice cracked and she furiously wiped at the tears that managed to escape her eyes.

"Hey," Michelle grasped Carla's fingers with her own and squeezed gently, "I'm looking at my _best friend, _alright_?_ And I'm remembering why I love her so much-," Michelle sniffled and Carla followed suit, her barriers beginning to break down, "and admiring how strong she is, and how much I wish I was just as brave as her."

"I'm not strong 'Chelle," Carla whispered, "not really; I just can't let him break me again."

Michelle offered a reassuring smile before becoming serious, "Carla," she began tentatively, "the doctor says you won't submit to a rape kit, and that you're refusing to speak to the police about what happened." At Carla's nod, Michelle pressed her quizzically, "Why babe? You have to report him-"

"Why should I?" Carla snapped aggressively "'cause it did so much good the first time around?"

"Car-"

"No Michelle!" Carla snatched her hand away, "He's already got away with it once, I'm not going to be humiliated again alright? _Never_ again!"

"So what are you going to do then? Eh?" Michelle asked, "let him walk around and not pay for what he's done to you, again?"

"Of course not!" She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, "Look 'Chelle, he was looking for something when he came to flat. Something he thought I had," Michelle felt her stomach flip guiltily, "maybe some client contract or something, I don't know but I sure as hell am going to find out."

"And what about Peter?"

"What about Peter?" Carla asked bitterly, "I've been here worried sick about him lying dead in a gutter somewhere, and if he's even alive or conscious for that matter, he certainly hasn't shown any interest in my whereabouts."

"That's not true Carla; the truth is, Peter's been hauled to the station,"

"Eh?" Carla's brow furrowed in horror

"The police think he was the one who battered you," Michelle told her sympathetically, "Ken called me right after it happened; apparently he didn't have his keys on him and he had blood all over his shirt when he arrived back at the flat this morning. And because Simon was the one who found you, he thinks his dad got angry and hit you and that it is his fault for making up those stories about you."

Carla dropped her head in her hands, "Oh God no," she felt sick at the idea that Simon found her all bruised and bloody, "that poor kid. As if he hasn't been traumatized enough."

"So you see Carla you have to go to the coppers and you have to get the DNA to prove it wasn't Peter-" Michelle tried again

"Please just go 'Chelle," Carla whispered in exasperation, as she tried in vain to wrap her head around the events of the last twelve hours.

"Car-"

"Just go 'Chelle!" Carla snapped bitterly.

Reluctantly, the brunette rose from beside her best friend and left her on her own. Once in the hallway, she began to pace the corridor for what seemed like hours; her tired brain pounding as she thought of a way to confess to Carla that she knew what Frank was looking for, and that it was she who nicked it from his briefcase, whilst also convincing her to turn in evidence to the police.

"Michelle!" The voice caught her off guard and she spun in time to see Leanne rushing down the hall followed closely by Steve.

"What's up?" Michelle asked, curiously taking in their ashen faces

"It's-" Leanne began as she drew in oxygen into her lungs

"It's about Peter," Steve stated, placing a reassuring hand on Leanne's shoulder

Michelle's hands flew up to her hair, "oh no, has he been charged?"

Leanne furiously shook her head, "no, he has," she took in a gulp of air, "an alibi."

"What? Who?" Michelle asked, her eyes darting from the blonde woman to her ex.

"Howard. His mentor, from his support group." Leanne explained, "I found him stood outside the bookie's, wondering if Peter was around. He apparently turned up at his house last night, three sheets to the wind. He got into a fight with some passerby and Howard had to pull them apart. That's where the blood on his shirt came from. Howard forced him to stay on his sofa all night, and that's where he found his flat keys late this morning; they had fallen between the cushions of the settee."

"Oh thank God," Michelle sighed, "So where is Peter now?"

"Still at the station," Steve responded, "we just dropped Howard off to give his statement and I drove Leanne here before I head back to pick them up." He nodded gingerly towards the bed on the other side of the window, where Carla lay on her side, her back towards the glass, "ummm how is she?"

Michelle let out an exasperated breath, "Not good Steve," she glanced back to where her best friend lay, "she's kicked me out of the room. She won't submit to a rape kit, and she refuses to press charges against Frank."

"So he, you know-" Steve trailed off rather embarrassed, "-again?"

"The doctors suspect as much. But Carla says she won't go through the process again. I tried to convince her it was the right thing to do, but she got angry and chucked me out. I think she's just overwhelmed right now."

"Did she say why he attacked her again?" Leanne asked gingerly

"Oh," Michelle turned bitterly to her, "so you believe her now do you? After going 'round the street saying she made the 'ole thing up?" Leanne lowered her gaze guiltily as the brunette took a menacing step towards her, "between you, your mother and Frank telling anyone who'll listen that she's a lying, homewrecking slut, why do you _think_ she's not pressing charges eh? Or telling anyone what actually happened for that matter?"

"Look, I know you're upset Michelle," Steve stated, trying to diffuse the situation, "believe me I want to rip the guy to shreds meself for what he's done to her," he wrapped an arm around his ex's shoulders and pulled her close to him, "but this is where you all need to band together to help Carla through this and hopefully get that bastard put behind bars where he belongs!"

Michelle let out the breathe she was holding, her eyes overflowing with tears once more, "I know, I'm sorry," she sobbed, "I'm just so worried about her. She's closing herself off again. I'm afraid she's gonna do sommit daft-" Steve shushed her gently as he wrapped her in an embrace, his chin resting softly upon her head

"Michelle," Leanne said quietly, "believe me when I say that I really want to help. I'm sorry for being such a cow to her but you can't really blame me can you?"

"To a degree I can..." Michelle trailed off, "it takes two to have an affair Leanne, as you know well enough from experience."

"Look, I want to help. In any way I can, honest I do."

"I better go collect Peter from the station," Steve whispered, reluctantly pulling away from his ex, "he'll probably want to come straight here so keep me posted okay?" At the brunette's nod, he planted an unexpected kiss on her forehead and headed down the hallway.

The two women stood staring at each other for an awkward moment before both turning to gaze through the window.

"So what's the plan then?" Leanne asked

Michelle shrugged, "try to get her to open up."

"Any ideas on how?" the blonde prodded

"I'm open to suggest-" Michelle trailed off

"What is it?" Leanne whispered curiously

"Shhh, listen," the brunette walked quietly to the door and beckoned Leanne to follow.

Inside the room, believing she was all alone, Carla hugged her pillow close to her body as she lay on her side. She hated feeling so alone, so abandoned...so broken and damaged. There were only two ways she knew how to deal with how she felt; one was to drink herself into oblivion; the other was a trick she had taught her younger brother Rob when they were kids, as they tried to block out the sound of their parents weekly screaming matches.

_'Rob_...' she thought as a tear rolled down her cheek, _'boy I could really do with having my brother around right now...'_

With no booze in sight and promising herself to never give Frank the opportunity at finding her inebriated again, softly and hoarsely, Carla closed her eyes and as she began to sing in a low and whispered voice, memories began to flood her mind...

_**There was a time when men were kind…**_

"_Hey, hey, hey, come here," Frank interrupted her quietly as he plucked the whiskey glass from her hand and placed it on the desk, "come here," he whispered again as he pulled her into his embrace and she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close to her body as though drawing strength from her friend and business partner like the oxygen she desperately needed, "Carla I am so, so sorry! You take as much time as you need, I can handle this place…"_

_**When their voices were soft**_

_**And their words inviting**_

"_Italy was a dream. I never want to wake up. I love you Carla Connor…marry me!"_

_**There was a time when love was blind**_

"_It's you, you big pilec! And don't, please don't tell me this is a school girl crush 'cause you're right under me skin.. and I'm guessing by the look on your mush you didn't have the slightest inkling did you?"_

_**And the world was a song**_

_**And the song was exciting**_

"_Genie's out the bottle Peter. Everytime I look at you we're both gonna know I fancy ya - this is one very doomed friendship."_

_**There was a time…**_

"_Carla…I love you."_

"_No-" she whispered stepping back, "no you know you have to be really careful what you say to me, I am really fragile right now!"_

"_I know," Peter assured her, stepping up to her and grasping her face between his palms, "I love you, I love you…" he kissed her softly, "and I want to be with you," he kissed her again, "and you're the only thing that matters in this world- "with a anguished cry she pressed her lips to his passionately, finally hearing the words she'd be longing to hear for so long…_

…_**Then it all went wrong…**_

"_I can't believe you waited until now; everything's organized, the invites and the reception is booked," she looked down as he continued to dish out the guilt upon her, though she knew in her heart she deserved nothing less, "my parents," his voice became angry and she recoiled a little in fear as his temper began to surface again, "are on their way; are you trying to humiliate me?"_

"_Of course I'm not! I hate doing this to you, I know you don't deserve it-"_

"_Damn right I don't deserve it…."_

_**I dreamed a dream in time gone by…**_

'_Just listen: I love you! I think I probably always have, alright?'_

_**When hope was high**_

_**And life worth living**_

'_Listen: whatever you say, I know you loved my brother, and whatever you think right now, he adored you; couldn't bear to be without you.' _

_**I dreamed that love would never die**_

"_Paul?" She called to him, her voice thick and raw from crying, "It's me, love!" She eased one of her hands to rest upon his head, while her fingers gently grasped his and tenderly stroked his knuckles. What she wouldn't give to have him open his eyes and respond to her in that moment…_

_**I dreamed that God would be forgiving**_

"_Why did he have to make me hate him before he died?"_

_**Then I was young and unafraid**_

"_What did you think of me back then? Honestly. What did you think the day you met me?__"_

"_Well I heard that t__he first time Richard Burton saw Elizabeth Taylor, he said: she looks so beautiful he almost laughed out loud.__"_

"_You see, how come nobody says that about me?_

"_I just did__…"_

_**And dreams were made and used and wasted**_

'_I was just thinking about the first night we got together. Do you know how long ago that was? It was your birthday 10 years ago.'_

_**There was no ransom to be paid**_

'_Tell me your stomach doesn't flip when I walk in the room. Mine does, has done since the minute I first saw you__…__'_

_**No song unsung, no wine untasted**_

'_My only secret is, I am passionately in love with a fantastic woman, whose only fault is she likes lying around in her dressing gown all day.'_

_**But the tigers come at night**_

"_It's just I need to know Tony," she pleaded with him, "'cause every time I look at you I'm wondering…" she leaned her head onto his shoulder, trying desperately to reach him, and yet terrified of what he might say, "and I really need to move on from that cause it's killing me Tony not knowing; you're killing me." Her voice cracked._

_**With their voices soft as thunder**_

_He turned to face her and she could see into his troubled eyes, so loving and so betrayed, "I wouldn't harm a hair on your head." He stated genuinely, grasping her hand in his. _

_**As they tear your hope apart**_

"_I killed him." he confessed, and he watched her eyes widen in fear, "I had him killed..." though he could see she was shaking, he continued, "but I did it for you." _

_**And they turn your dream to shame**_

"_Look at what we've done, look at the lives we've wrecked, we don't deserve to live." He explained as if trying to convince her,_

"_Why not, why can't we just-both get out of here eh? Hey we can go somewhere just me and you eh?"_

"_We're going to be together forever." He stated almost happily. He was too far gone now…_

_**He slept a summer by my side**_

_Frank laughed and leaned his head against hers, "Carla," he whispered huskily, "I am so in love with you; I didn't think I could ever feel like this." _

_**He filled my days with endless wonder**_

"_If I scrunch up my eyes just a little bit, I can see around the corner into the future and oh look," Frank stated happily, his eyes closed in utter happiness, and Carla felt a wave of guilt course through her, "there's me, and I am with the most beautiful, sexy, wonderful woman I have ever met; and we're here, the curtains are drawn and we're shutting out the world with a glass of champagne. The kids' asleep upstairs." _

_**He took my childhood in his stride**_

"…_And you," he breathed out almost painfully, "you were using me,"_

"_No I wasn't-" she tried to reason with him, but he was beyond reasoning now,_

"_Using me to make your boyfriend jealous…a smokescreen: for your sordid little affair…"_

"_No it's not true," she pleaded with him_

"_And now you think you can just chuck me away? Job done?" _

_**But he was gone when autumn came…**_

"_It's your fault," he whispered as he stood towering over her shaken, bruised and battered body, "you made me do it."_

'_**And still I dream he'll come to me…**_

'_You will never feel this way about anyone else...'_

'_**That we will… live the years… together…**_

…'_You'll go to bed missing me…'_

_**But… there are… dreams… that… cannot be…**_

'… _and you'll wake up aching, wishing I was there.'_

_**And there… are storms… we cannot weather…'**_

With tears streaming down her face, Michelle pushed her way into the room. Reaching the bed, she wrapped her arms around her sister-in-law's shoulders; Carla continued to heave heavily between her sobs as she gripped the side of her mattress, her head hanging over the edge and her tears flooding down her face and onto the floor below

'_**I…had a… dream… my life… would be…'**_

"Shhhh" cooed Michelle as she gently caressed her best friend's hair, her own tears now dampening the black locks beneath her fingertips,

'_**So diff…erent… from… this hell… I'm living…' **_

"It's okay…" Michelle reassured her through her own sobs as she gently placed the broken woman's head upon her lap.

'_**So diff..erent… now… from… what… it seemed-'**_

With a loud sob, Carla grasped at Michelle's sweater dress and buried her face into her thigh, her crying now becoming more prominent, more heartwrenching; and Michelle's heart shattered in her chest as she too cried heavily, as her hands held her sister-in-law as tightly to her own body as possible.

And outside the room, Leanne sat on the floor beside the door, having slid down the wall there just minutes earlier. Her face wet with freshly fallen tears, she hugged her knees tightly to her chest as she whispered the final words in a voice as low and emotional as her former friend's,

'_**Now… life has killed the dream… we dreamed.'**_

* * *

_**A/N: The song is 'I Dreamed A Dream' from Les Miserables. I highly recommend listening to the Anne Hathaway version from the recent film release, as the emotion in her voice inspired me to write this scene.  
**_


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N: Thank you all for the wonderful support of this fic. A special thank you to Noeme for helping me flesh this chapter out.**_

_**:)**_

* * *

Peter took a long drag from his cigarette as he dropped his head into his palm. His elbow balanced gingerly on his thigh and he swayed softly back and forth on the sofa he had flopped down on since arriving back from the police station. After a prolonged minute, he finally exhaled the smoke through his nose and pursed lips.

He had a cracking migraine. This had to be one of the worst hangovers ever to strike him in recent years. And yet the throbbing pain in his head was nowhere near as excruciating as the one that resounded deep in his chest.

He had let her down...

Again…

_His Carla_.

He could not get his head around the events of the night before. She had been attacked again by that smarmy animal. Attacked in the middle of the night, alone, and left to fend for herself after everything that had already happened to her that day. Left by herself to once again to fight off Frank Foster, the same evil beast who had already crushed her mentally, physically and emotionally just months earlier…and all because the man who promised to protect her from that monster, had been too selfish to resist his own temptation to booze.

He didn't know the extent of her injuries, and Steve wasn't saying much after he picked him up from the station. All he would tell Peter, was that Carla would be discharged within the hour and that Maria was at the hospital to drive her and Michelle back to the street.

He took another drag of his cigarette and reached over to flick the ash onto the provided tray. _'How did Frank manage to get into the flat in the first place?' _He thought frantically, _'surely she wouldn't have just buzzed anyone up at that hour without checking who it was first.' _The police had said something about a key being used and dropped just inside the main door. They had run tests to lift possible prints off the key but it had been expertly cleaned; besides Frank most likely wore gloves, Peter concluded. Not that it should surprise him: that bastard was always one step ahead of him.

But even if Frank had managed to get in the main entrance, there was no sign of forced entry upstairs. Carla would surely have bolted _that_ door. Despite her attempts at appearing strong to those around her, she was still relentlessly paranoid. She continued to jump at loud sounds and would often lock all the doors in the flat before going back, sometimes two or three times, and ensuring that they were still locked. She must have thought she knew who it was to open the entryway upstairs…

…she must have thought it was him stumbling home drunk!

And the thought made him sick to his stomach.

"Whew, sorry for the delay! Got side-tracked on the way back from me apartment. I take it Dev didn't give you too hard of a time in giving you Michelle's spare key then?" Steve asked as he entered the apartment,

"Nah, Michelle called him from the hospital and gave him the heads up that I'd be poppin' round." Peter answered despondently as he puffed out another bout of smoke.

"Ahh, I see," Steve acknowledged quietly, "Well, here you go mate!" he chucked one of his button-down shirts beside the bookie, "sorry if it doesn't fit properly, but you know, hopefully them coppers will let you back into your flat and allow you access to your own gear later tonight eh?"

"Yeah," Peter responded softly his voice low and hoarse, "my flat. Yet another place filled with traumatizing memories for Carla eh?" he raised his eyes to lock on Steve's, whose brow was furrowed in sympathy, "yet another _home_ stained and tarnished by that…-that animal."

Steve pursed his lips and shook his head. Not knowing what else to say, he sat down next to his friend and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. He glanced around the flat, "well maybe Michelle will let you guys crash 'ere for a few days; that, or I'm sure Deirdre and Ken will put you all up until the dust settles."

"Me dad's already offered to keep Si for the night, and I'm going to stay wherever Carla wants to." He whispered, stubbing out the end of his cigarette, "This is my fault Steve."

"Peter-"

"I should have been there for her last night! I should have been in that apartment, holding her in my arms all night long and comforting her. But instead I decided to get drunk because of what that bastard tried to do to my business!" Peter shook his head in frustration and massaged his forehead with a shaky hand, "I was so wrapped up in my anger towards him and this whole stupid mess with Leanne and me son, that I forgot that Carla's 'ad it a million times worse from everyone around 'ere: Sitting in that office day in, day out with the man that raped her after being called a liar in court; being harassed on the street by her neighbours and 'friends'; my son giving her the coldest shoulder I've ever thought possible and making up lies about her hittin' him because he, like everyone else 'round here, blames her for the break-up of my marriage; she then gets conned out of her factory…her business…her everything. And that very night, because he obviously _still _wasn't satisfied with the damage he's already caused, Frank breaks into our flat and batters her." He took a deep and shaky breathe, his head now clutched between his hands and his fingers deftly gripping his hair, "And now…God, now I can't stop the images bouncing through me mind right now. I feel so helpless, you know? I don't know how much she's been hurt; I don't really _know_ what else he did to her in there Steve," he swallowed the lump forming in his throat, "I don't even know for sure if he ra-"

Steve gave his friend's shoulder a reassuring squeeze as the hunched over man let an involuntary sob escape his lips. After what Michelle had told both him and Leanne just a couple of hours earlier at the hospital, the cabbie was sure that Carla had indeed been assaulted by Frank the night before. He couldn't bring himself to tell Peter though; not only because he didn't feel it right to be the one to break it to the bookie that his girlfriend had been raped again by the same man, but he also did not want to tell him as a way of _protecting_ him. Even knowing a little of what Steve knew would send his friend into a murderous rage that would probably result in Frank Foster's body being found mangled upon the factory floor. And while Steve felt in his heart that the bastard would deserve nothing less than a good throttling, it wasn't worth Peter getting banged up for assault…not for his _or _Carla's sake.

Peter pursed his lips and exhaled a slow steady breath, "But I know it in my heart Steve," he whispered, "in heart and in my gut. He raped her again last night. The bastard thinks he's untouchable, and I want nothing more than to strangle the life out of him with my bare hands," he clutched his hair tightly between his trembling fingers,

"Yeah, but you know that won't help mate." Steve said softly

"Oh I know," Peter agreed, sitting up and taking slow controlled breaths to quell his racing heart, "so I have to fight my natural instincts, and resist the urge to wipe that smarmy look of his face with my fists. No, from now on I need to put Carla's needs before my own. I can't ever let him touch her again, I can't. I'm never going to let him or anyone else hurt her again; not now, not ever."

Steve nodded his head, "I think that's exactly what she needs right now Peter: someone who's going to be there for her, be a tower of strength for her-"

Peter chuckled and a smile crept across his face, "that's what she called me in court you know, '_a tower of strength'_," he sighed, "problem is, I don't feel strong Steve. She's the strong one. She amazes me every day."

"She certainly is," Steve agreed with a smile himself, "she were always strong; kept her feelings hidden from everyone including her sister-in-law, never showed her vulnerability to the world for anything. At least not until September; that was when she finally started to show the cracks in her spirit," he picked up the shirt next to him, "which is why I reckon she's gonna need you more than ever right now. This incident last night will 'ave just chipped away at those tiny cracks and made 'em bigger. So you need to get changed, and clean yourself up a bit. She doesn't need to see you looking as though you slept in the gutter last night, or that you're suffering from the 'angover from hell…even if you are." He handed Peter the shirt, "go on then, and I'll fix us a brew."

"Cheers Steve," Peter mumbled appreciatively pushing himself to his feet and heading to the bathroom.

He emerged some time later, upon hearing voices in the stairwell, in time to see Carla, Michelle and Maria enter the flat. He felt his breath hitch in his chest as he watched his girlfriend, the woman he had come to love more than his own life, slowly make her way towards the sofa. She was wearing a pair of leggings, legwarmers, an oversized shirt, and a pair of trainers; a far cry from the sky high heels and glam clothes she normally wore. Maria walked directly behind her, her fingers gently grasping onto Carla's elbow and carrying a small duffle bag in the other. After aiding Carla into a seated position she placed the bag next to her on the floor beside the sofa and turned to Peter, "The coppers only let me into the flat to pack a few clothes for Carla, but I rummaged through some of your drawers as well and grabbed a few bits in case you wanted changin' an' all."

"Thanks Maria," Peter smiled affectionately as he moved to sit next to his girlfriend. He looked over his shoulder to where Michelle stood by Steve, nervously biting her thumbnail, before focusing his gaze back on the woman he loved. "Car?" he whispered gently, his hand coming up slowly to stroke her hair, "baby I-" he shook his head, unable to form the proper words. His eyes brimmed with unshed tears as she finally turned to look at him. Despite the small smile she offered him, she looked so worn; so emotionally beaten down. But as his eyes roamed her beautifully pale face, he was taken aback by the lack of bruises marring the flesh. If she was battered as the police say she was, it certainly didn't seem so on the surface. Other than the gash and subsequent bruising just beneath her hairline, which had been stitched up and bandaged with a square of gauze, her face remained virtually untouched.

The same could not be said about her neck. Red blotchy marks lined both the delicate skin beneath her jaw and the gentle curve of her collar bone.

Peter knew then that his worst fears had in fact been true. She hadn't been battered…she'd been raped once more.

The very idea once again caused his stomach to churn, and he lowered his eyes to look upon her arms, immediately biting back the bile that threatened to push past his lips; her wrists were once again littered in the same bright red marks as her neck. It was like looking at a picture of her from last September. Small patches of dried blood were scattered among the bruises, no doubt from scratches that cut too deeply into the fragile skin from her attacker's fingernails.

He watched the way she was held herself, her arms wrapped about her chest and abdomen, and he squeezed his eyes shut; the movement triggering his tears to now fall freely down his cheeks.

He couldn't believe he let it happen to her again.

He bit the inside of his lip, determined to pull himself together for her sake, when he felt her soft but cold fingers deftly brush the tears from his cheek. His own hand reached up and grasped hers within his; opening his eyes, he blinked rapidly until she came into focus. Her lips were tugged into a half-smile, her eyes gleaming encouragingly at him. He couldn't believe the strength in her as she sat there wordlessly reassuring him instead of the other way around. He was in total awe of her, and exhaling deeply he gently and lovingly pecked his lips to her fingers over and over again.

"Did she uhh, you know?" Steve asked Michelle gingerly as he gestured towards Carla.

Michelle shook her head, "no," she whispered dropping her thumb from her mouth, "no she still wouldn't submit to a rape kit, or press charges."

"What?" Peter questioned in horror, his eyes darting between his lover and her sister-in-law, "Car?"

"I didn't submit to a rape kit Peter," she answered hoarsely, "and I'm not pressing charges against Frank."

"No!" Peter stated angrily, "no this isn't right," his voice began to rise as he stood up from the sofa and looked around for anyone to back him up, "no, no, no you need to go back down there or to a referral centre-"

"No Peter-" Carla responded her eyes closing in frustration

"_**Carla I will drag you down there myself if I have to**_!" Peter yelled in anger. He softened his stance when he saw her recoil from him, her body beginning to tremble profusely. Running a hand through his hair, he took a deep breathe and sat down close to her, "baby, please listen to reason; you can't let him get away with this-"

"He already has Peter, and he will continue to over and over again." Her voice was hard and cold, a tone he was not familiar with when it came to his Carla. But when she opened her eyes once more, locking them desperately on his, he could suddenly see the fear behind the green orbs, "I'm not going through it again Peter," she whispered shakily, "please understand that I-I won't survive going through it all over again."

Her lower lip quivered and he immediately wrapped his arms around her, his heart shattering in his chest at the way she tensed beneath his touch. They had come so far in recent months. She was only beginning to feel comfortable in her own skin once more, even if it was only fractionally, and it seemed now that for the one step forward they had accomplished, they'd been flung ten steps back again.

"Okay," he whispered as he pressed a kiss to her temple, "okay, it's alright. We'll do whatever you think is best okay? I'm sorry, baby I'm so sorry!"

"He was after sommit Peter," she whispered into his neck, "he were lookin' for sommit he thought I took."

"Like what?" He asked her as he pulled away from her slightly, "what could it have been?"

"I don't know," she sighed heavily, rubbing her forehead comfortingly, "I don't know what he was on about, he wouldn't tell me."

"Maybe it were just an excuse Carla," Maria piped in softly, "maybe it were just his way of trying to blame what he did to you _on you_ again."

"Yeah," Carla nodded her head timidly, "yeah maybe."

"No it wasn't." Michelle stated shakily, feeling suddenly nervous as all eyes turned to her, "he _**was**_ looking for something. Something he needs," she swallowed hard as her eyes locked on her sister-in-law's, "something that was taken from his briefcase last night…"

"'Chelle?" Carla's voice cracked as her heart beat quickly in her chest, "what are you on about?"

Exhaling the breath she hadn't realized she was holding, Michelle reached into her purse and pulled out a folded roll of papers, "the contract," she started uneasily, "the one that you signed, selling him your shares of Underworld for less than half of their worth? I took it last night."

Carla reached out and snatched the papers from Michelle's hand, a look off disbelief and anger playing about her face as she flipped through them.

"Carla I am so sorry! I tried to warn you, I were calling but-, and I never thought he would go after-, God I am so, so sorry!" her best friend's sobs were muffled as Steve drew her in for a comforting hug

"Baby?" Peter whispered as he watched his girlfriend's face relax, her lips twitching into a smirk.

Carla raised her eyes from the paper where her signature was etched in ink, a slow leisurely smile spreading dangerously across her face, "Peter?" she stated evenly, "you don't by any chance have a lighter around do you?"

"Yeah, why?" the bookies asked as he pulled out the lighter from his pocket

Carla's eyes, alit with mischief, now gazed into Michelle's, "Oh I were just thinking that we could do with a good ol' fashioned contract burning, what do you reckon?"

"Oh aye, I'm always up for one of them," Maria smirked, her arms folded across her chest,

"Shall I do the honours?" Steve asked holding out his hand and gesturing to the papers that Carla now clutched to her chest

"Don't you dare," she teased, "this pleasure shall be all mine!" She rose from her seat painfully slow, and grasped Michelle's hand in hers, giving it a thankful squeeze before continuing on to the sink.

"Be a dear 'Chelle and get my coat eh?" she called out as she ignited the flame

"Why? Where you going?" Michelle asked slightly horrified

"Just about three o'clock," Carla responded, "the machinists should be getting off soon," she held the papers up in front of her eyes, smirking as the flames licked up and set the corner of the contract alight. As the fire doused the papers in flames, she dropped it into the sink and turned on the taps before throwing a look after her shoulder, "wouldn't want them to miss the show now would we?"

* * *

Frank sat in the office in Underworld, thoroughly pleased with the events of the last 24 hours. He allowed the workers to come in for a final shift to finish their remaining orders, relishing in being able to tell them all that they needn't bother coming in the following day. Even though he didn't have the contract, he was also satisfied that Carla didn't know about its strange disappearance either.

He spun leisurely in her chair, still able to make out the sweet smell of her bodywash and perfume as it lingered on the leather. He closed his eyes in ecstasy as he remembered taking her again the night before. This time the revenge had been nothing short of sweet; unlike the first time when he was afflicted with guilt and horror at his actions, this time around he relished in his assault of her.

He admired her spirit though; she still had that spark in her, even as she battled to stay conscious from her head wound. She was though, once again, easily overpowered, and he delighted in the sound of her pleas as she begged him to stop.

He licked his lips subconsciously; there was no doubt that he still wanted her, desired her…

Taking her in her lover's bed was the ultimate punishment. She would no longer be able to stay in that flat without being plagued with horrid memories of the ordeal. It would hopefully drive a wedge between her and Peter, and when the time was right, he'd swoop in and pick up the pieces. Maybe take her somewhere far from Weatherfield and that damned bookie.

She'd learn to love him…he would make sure of it…

"Getting rather comfortable aren't we?" her soft voice pierced through the office, strong and determined and not at all what he was expecting in the slightest.

He opened his eyes slowly, and a lustful grin spread across his face.

There she stood, _**his**_ Carla; bruised, worn out, pale, defiant…_beautiful_.

"Carla, Carla, Carla," he tutted softly, his eyes roaming her from head to toe, purposefully ignoring the fact that both Peter and Michelle stood protectively on either side of her, "Those are some nasty looking bruises," he chuckled evilly, "I do hope you're not letting your boyfriend push you around too much. Then again I wouldn't be surprised; after all, I always reckoned he wouldn't know how to really _handle_ a woman like you darling."

Despite his best attempts at remaining calm, Peter snarled and took a menacing step forward only to be stopped by Carla's arm thrusting out in front of him.

Frank smirked at his success in getting a rise out of his nemesis, before his eyes again focused again onto the object of his desire, "So, to what do I owe this pleasure, Carla?"

"Just came to collect my stuff Frank," she stated nonchalantly, "and to call some clients in order to tie up some loose ends."

"Well collect your things if you must but as far as the 'loose ends' go, sorry but you are no longer allowed to access _my_ client list." Frank stated smugly as he rose from his seat, relishing in the involuntary step back she took at his sudden movement. "Whatever is the matter Carla? Did you see a ghost?" he whispered maliciously

Carla simply pursed her lips, and furrowed her brow in mock ignorance, "I think you'll find that I do have access Frank; according to the contract **you** drew up, I have 48 hours to wrap up any loose ends of my choosing." She smirked slightly as his jaw twitched, "but we can check the contract again to be sure…" she flashed him a grin, her ears picking up on the whispers and gossiping of the machinists just outside the office door.

Frank attempted to recover himself, "no need for that," he stated dismissively, "do as you wish, but make it quick eh?"

He attempted to walk around to his side of the desk, but Carla brazenly stepped in his path, "actually," she stated challengingly as she crossed her arms over her chest, "You know, I think I'd like to see the contract again, you know just to be on the safe side like." She moved deftly out of his way and around her desk, "Oh and while you're at it, you can get me a copy of it an' all. You seemed to 'ave forgotten to do that yesterday in the midst of all your gloatin'." Sitting down gingerly in her chair, she casually threw her legs up on the desk, ignoring the pain that tore through her body as she did so.

"Alright, enough," Frank ordered evenly "I want you out of here now. **This** is trespassing."

"Is it?" She challenged him as Peter and Michelle smugly moved to stand on either side of her, "because sommit tells me, and it is just a _little_ naggling voice in the back of my mind, mind you;" she smirked ferally, " but it's telling me, that this place," she gestured upwards with her fingers, "still belongs to me."

"You're deluded." Frank stated

"Am I? Let's see the contract then, eh?" The smile faded from her face, and she pinned him with a penetrating stare, "go on Frank, I know how much you'd love to just 'put me in my place'…again…" her voice dropped to a dangerous tone, her eyes glinting wildly under the office lights, "…here's your chance…"

"Okay, I've had enough of this." Frank shook his head angrily, "If you and your entourage are not gone in the next two minutes, I'm calling the police."

Biting her lip, Carla swung her legs down from the desk and reached across the computer. Picking up the cordless receiver, she dangled it tantalizingly in front of him,

"be my guest Frank…"


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N: Thank you all for the wonderful support and reviews. I've split the following update into two chapters as I felt it would flow better. The next chapter should be posted later tonight (Canada time). **_

_**Without getting too preachy here, *puts on monocle*, and at the risk of sounding too much like a "well-read intellectual", I do need to address a certain issue that has arisen via some of my fics as of late. As an amateur writer, I thoroughly enjoy receiving comments on my stories. It helps me to fine-tune my technique and provides me the opportunity to correct my work and continue to challenge myself as a fanfic author. As you can see by scrolling through the review sections of my stories, I accept all forms of feedback on my works. From commendations, to constructive criticism, to the downright nasty and insulting comments. If you ask me to verify my reasoning for a certain scene, or if you are going to question my researching skills on a sensitive topic found within the story, by all means please do so. I have no qualms with backing up my story line structure, themes, symbolisms, or scene choices used in any of my works thus far and in the future. **_

_**In short bring on the nastiness if it makes you feel better for doing so; I love to write and I will continue to write. )**_

_**Special shoutout to Noeme and LoveCarlaConnor for their help with this chapter. **_

_**Hope you enjoy this latest installment!**_

* * *

"Look, I can't go into much details girls," Michelle stated with a sigh, removing her eyes from the standoff in the office to the machinists all huddled around the sewing machines, "all's I can say is, Carla came in to tie up some loose ends and asked to see the contract, but Frank wouldn't show it to her, or provide her with her own copy. That's when Carla got suspicious that Frank doesn't have it-,"

"What like he misplaced it, or lost it?" Izzy asked in confusion

"Lost it, or it was nicked, more like," Sean stated, his arms folding over his chest and eyeing Michelle with a smirk.

"You reckon?" Beth asked intrigued

"Whatever happened to it, is not our concern right now okay?" Michelle interrupted them, "Frank's called the police to have them arrest Carla for trespassing, but if he can't produce that contract…" she trailed off, shrugging her shoulders and pursing her lips knowingly

"-then this place still belongs to Mrs Connor?" Hayley asked with a jubilant glee

"That's right Hayley." Michelle smiled

"And that means we all won't be out of a job then?" Julie asked hopefully

"If this place remains in Carla's hands, then you can pretty much guarantee you'll all be in tomorrow for work as usual." Michelle responded

"But what about the contract?" Julie asked, "I mean," she lowered her voice to whisper, "we all know that she_ did_ sign it last night."

"Do we?" Sean asked mischievously

"Yeah, I don't seem to recall hearing anything about Carla signing over the factory to Mr Foster," Fiz chirped in with a smile

"I certainly don't remember anything about a contract," Eileen piped in

"Same here," Izzy said with a smile.

"Well , look, you lot don't have to stay if you don't want to," Michelle addressed them all with affection at their show of loyalty to her best friend, "you can all head to the Rovers if you like and I'll fill you in when we know more."

"Are you kidding?" Beth screeched, "What, leave now and miss the fireworks? I don't think so. Hey, Hayley be a dear and make us all a brew eh?"

Michelle snickered as Hayley rolled her eyes and marched towards the kitchen.

* * *

"This is your last chance Carla," Frank said turning from the window where he watched Michelle address the machinists, his voice dropping to a low and sinister register, "the coppers will be here any minute. Leave with what little shred of dignity you have left, eh?" His lips curled into a smirk as she shifted uncomfortably in her chair; an involuntary shudder causing her body to tremble as she subconsciously ran her fingers over the fresh bruises on her wrist.

"Oh I'm not going anywhere Frank," she whispered rather shakily, her eyes finally raising to meet his, "not while I still have that gut feelin' that this place is still mine, or sixty percent of it I should say." Her own smile tugged at her lips, "and that means, I'm _still_ the boss."

"This place is mine Carla, and you know it! You signed the contract, the deal is done and I will not give this up without a fight," Frank's eyes shifted to the bookie who was sitting protectively next to her, his own eyes boring into the businessman, "After all, I always get what's mine in the end. Isn't that right Carla?" He whispered maliciously as his gaze shifted back to the woman he desired.

Her eyes became damp with unshed tears.

_Fear_.

He had instilled it into her very soul. For all the bravado she had put on earlier - marching into the office and demanding to see the contract-, she really couldn't deny that she was deathly terrified of the monster before her. He had shown his dominance over her twice now; had ripped everything away from her in the wee hours of that cold March morning just as he had done that fateful September evening. And yet again, he had done so in a place where she had once felt safe; a place that would now become tainted with horrid memories and brutal nightmares; a place where the walls would forever echo the screams that had passed her lips as she begged him, over and over again, to stop once more...

"If you're so confidant then why all the dramatics with the coppers? Just show us the contract Frank," Peter said hoarsely from next to her, his hand gently squeezing her own in reassurance, "show us the paperwork and we'll leave you to it." Frank's eyes dropped to where Peter and Carla's fingers interlaced lovingly, his jaw twitching enviously and his lips pressing together in frustration.

…an action that did not go unnoticed by the bookie…

Pulling himself from his seat, Peter perched on the arm of his girlfriend's chair. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and tucked her trembling form into his chest. "In fact," Peter continued to address Frank, "show us the paperwork and we'll leave you all to it," he lifted Carla's chin with his fingers so that she was now gazing into his tender yet mischievous eyes and smiled warmly upon her, "won't we love?" he cupped her face with his palm, his thumb gently running circles along her cheek, "we'll pack up and start away from here; just you, me and Si. Get one of them nice little Victorian-style houses-,"

"-sommit with character-" Carla whispered, deftly realizing his game and playing along,

"-big master bedroom-" the bookie's eyes twinkled

"-a backyard for Simon to kick the footy about-" she chuckled fondly

"-with a younger brother or sister perhaps, hey, maybe both."

"Sounds like a win-win no matter what then eh?" She smiled up at her lover, her trembling now subsided as she remained wrapped safely in his embrace.

Peter smiled, his hand gently stroking her hair, "I've got you, and you've got me. And that puts us on top of that podium every time love," he answered truthfully, gently capturing her lips with his own, "no matter what obstacles the world throws at us."

"Just you and me against the rest of the world hey?" She whispered softly, repeating his words from weeks earlier.

"Look out world eh?" He finished fondly

"Oh please," Frank huffed, rolling his eyes and turning his back on the lovers in attempted disgust; he flung open the office door and brushed angrily past Michelle as he headed over to speak with the machinists, his jealousy not as well masked as he hoped it to be.

"You alright?" Michelle asked as she came to stand on the other side of her sister-in-law only to receive a small nod in reply.

"You're doing great love," Peter whispered as he pulled her into a tighter embrace and laid soft kisses to her forehead, "I'm so proud of you baby."

"Peter I don't know how much longer I can sit here acting strong," Carla's voice cracked, "I can't stop my body from shakin'. Just hearing his voice brings it all back to me." She raised her tear-filled eyes to his, "How am I going to keep coming in here day in, day out from now on eh?"

"Oh love," Peter whispered as he wiped away the tears that spilled down her cheeks with his thumb, "we'll just have to cross that bridge when we come to it. Right now, just focus on me and Michelle; draw strength from us, okay?" At her meek nod, he pulled her closer to him, his lips pressing reassuring kisses into her hair, while he exchanged a worried look with her best friend.

* * *

The chill of the March afternoon pinched Sally's cheeks uncomfortably as she walked across the cobbles towards Kevin's garage. Her arms around her midsection, she shifted her gaze momentarily towards the factory on her right. She couldn't help the tears that pricked the corners of her eyes as she thought about her role in its soon to be demise. She had been so smitten, so taken in by Frank that she actually _believed_ that he cared about her as much as she did him. But he had played her for a complete fool. Using her ambitious attitude and naivety to perfection in order to exact his revenge on the woman he was actually obsessed with, the woman who he claimed to love…

…the woman he had raped.

The thought of it made her instantly ill and she leaned against the brick wall outside Webster's Garage, her eyes closing momentarily in an effort to stop the bile from rising further in her throat.

She should have known better. She had known Carla much longer than she had Frank. She knew everything Carla had gone through with Tony and knew that when it came down to it, she was a fighter, a survivor; she was not one to hide behind an accusation of rape to get what she wanted, nor was she a drama queen. And while she may not always go about it in the right way, Carla was known for facing her problems head on.

Since the discovery of Frank's affair with Jenny Sumner, and his 'confession' to attacking his ex-fiancée two nights prior, Sally had not been able to get so much as an hour of sleep. The lack of shut-eye had allowed her time to re-think everything she had foolishly believed for months, and the guilt that had now overtaken her was all consuming. If she hadn't been so selfishly driven in her need to punish Carla herself, she would have seen that Frank's accusations were nothing short of ludicrous: Carla could fight dirty when needed, sure; but she would _never_ lie about being raped simply to boot him from the factory, nor to cover up an affair.

Though she had not been around when Tony set fire to Underworld and tried desperately to take Carla with him in his devious murder-suicide plot, she had heard from the others that following the explosion, their boss left Weatherfield behind for a few weeks in order to deal with the trauma she had suffered. She returned in top form as per usual, but there was a change in her, and no one could quite put their finger on just what it was until after everything that occurred with Frank.

Sally knew that despite her no nonsense and take no prisoners attitude in the business world, Carla sincerely had a heart of gold. She may have a strict line drawn in her employee/employer relationships, but the truth was it was all front; she genuinely cared about her workers. She had stood up for Fiz countless times and aided her during the whole investigation surrounding John's sordid murders; she had developed a rather strong companionship with Hayley from the get-go; **and** she had supported _her _wholeheartedly and without further question during her breast cancer treatment and recovery.

But all those memories of her kindness and understanding through that difficult time were easily forgotten, along with common sense, in the weeks that followed Carla's rape.

Sally had been so angry at being laid off in the weeks following Frank's attack in spite of everything she had done to keep Underworld afloat while Carla recovered, that she conveniently chose to ignore the signs that Carla was telling the truth, which she had seen with her very own eyes. The day Frank was charged, the workers all saw their boss arrive at the factory in her best attempt to put on a brave face. But the bruises on her arms and neck, the way she carried herself, the tears in her eyes…this was not the Carla Connor they had known for years. Even after the exposure of the affair and Frank's not guilty verdict, she was but a shell of who she once was. She was jumpy, uncomfortable, and exhausted.

Frank would only twist the knife further, standing close to her while overseeing the machinists work, the way he would deliberately brush his body against hers. At the time Sally thought it was all just revenge; the perfect punishment for trying to stitch him up with a false cry of rape. But in light of the recent events of the past forty-eight hours, as she sat awake in her bed the night before re-thinking everything that had happened since September, she felt sick with herself for not realizing just how evil Frank really was and just how much he delighted in the torturing of his victim at every opportunity.

She remembered how many times Carla's eyes would glaze over with unshed tears in the office as Frank leaned over her shoulder to check on paperwork; how she would fumble with her pen or mug and hastily excuse herself to the toilets. Again Sally had brushed it off as dramatics and Carla's weak attempt at trying to save face for her outlandish accusations; but now she knew that for every moment she worked with Frank following the trial, another chunk of Carla's protective armor was hacked away, exposing the frightened and abused woman underneath -

"Sal?" Tyrone's voice shook her from her thoughts. She opened her eyes to see him standing next to her, his brow furrowed in concern as he wiped some grease of his hands with a rag.

"Oh, hi Tyrone," she greeted him softly, "I were just coming to speak to Kevin if he's around."

"Uh yeah, 'ang on a minute," Tyrone turned and called for his business partner before taking a step closer to Sally, "Kev told us about what that scumbag did to Carla, and how he's been using you all these months to get his revenge on her. You okay?"

"Other than feeling overcome with guilt and stupidity you mean?" she answered despondently

"Well you shouldn't," Kevin said lovingly as both he and Tommy also came to stand next to her, "he's a master manipulator alright? He knew exactly what he were doing." Kevin placed an arm around his ex-wife's shoulders, "hey don't blame yourself for this," he whispered, giving her a gentle squeeze, "he just took advantage of you Sal-"

"Yeah, well imagine how Carla must feel then hey?" Tommy piped in knowingly, "Attacked by that slimy bastard, made to look like a liar in court, berated on the street here by her 'friends' and neighbours, and then conned out of her business. Talk about being raped, robbed and left for the vultures eh?"

"Alright, steady on Tommy! I don't think this is helping do you?" Tyrone interjected

"Probably not," Tommy shrugged his shoulders, "but maybe, _just maybe_, instead of standing 'ere feeling sorry for yourself, you could go and see how the _real _victim in all of this is holding up eh?" tossing his rag down on the trolly next to the door, Tommy stalked back into the garage.

"He's right," Sally stated, shaking her head in disgust with her self-pitying attitude, "I should be checking on Carla and trying to apologize for my appalling behaviour,"" she lowered her gaze to her feet, "not that I would blame her for not wanting to give me the time of day."

"Well just hang around a bit and you'll get your chance soon, she nipped into the factory earlier with Peter and Michelle." Kevin said, gesturing to Underworld with his head, "want me to fix us a brew?"

"What do you mean she went in?" Sally asked, her head snapping up

"Probably just to get some of her things, you know, clear her desk and stuff," Tyrone added, "a little surprised she went in today though after what happened this morning."

"_What _happened this morning?" Sally's stomach flipped aggressively.

Tyrone furrowed his brow at her, assuming that the commotion at the bookie's flat was common knowledge around the street. "You know, her being attacked in the flat last night-,"

"She was what?" Sally screeched in horror

"Yeah, Tommy told us." Kevin filled her in, "Leanne told Tina and Stella earlier that someone got into the bookie's flat around three or so in the morning and gave Carla quite a battering. Simon, Ken and Leanne found her unconscious when they went to get some of the lad's schoolbooks. The coppers suspected Peter at first, since there was no forced entry, thinking he got so drunk last night that he lashed out at her-"

"What do you mean no forced entry?" Sally asked in confusion, "surely Carla wouldn't allow anyone access to the flat unless she knew them?"

"Apparently they had a key," Tommy answered, coming back outside with a mug of coffee in his hands, "Said it was dropped by the main entrance. Tina said they thought it was Peter's because he couldn't find his keys when he arrived back to the flat. But his alibi, some mentor from his alcohol support group, showed up a few hours after he was hauled down to the station with his keys in hand. Said Peter got into a fight with some random on the street, and crashed on his mentor's couch."

"A single key?" Sally whispered horrified

"Apparently so, yeah. Why?" Tommy asked curiously

Sally closed her eyes as a memory of just a few days prior quickly flooded over her…

"_Right Mr. Foster," Sally said happily as she entered the office, noting that Frank seemed to dash quickly away from Carla's desk but paying it no mind, "I'm just off to the suppliers," she said as she grabbed her coat, "I'll be back as soon as." _

"_Oh yeah, thanks Sally." Frank acknowledged with a smile, "oh you don't think you could do me a favour eh?"_

"_Anything you like," she flirted whilst walking up to him and placing her hands on his chest, _

_He smiled affectionately at her, "well, when you nip out to grab those samples, could you also get a copy of this key cut for me please?" he asked holding up a small silver key_

_She tried to hide her confusion and slight disappointment at the request, but managed a smile, "Yeah, of course I can. What is it for?"_

"_Spare key for my place," he answered smoothly, wrapping his arms around her waist and swaying her gently, "by the way, we are still on for that romantic dinner out in a couple days aren't we?"_

"_Of course we are," she answered, her heart fluttering in her chest. She couldn't hide her sheer delight; not only were they moving forward in their relationship, but she suspected he was also coyly planning on giving her a key to his place as well._

"_Good," he whispered as he kissed her forehead, "I have a feeling we'll have a lot to celebrate that night."_

_The door to the office swung open, causing them both to look up into the rather despondent expression splashed across Carla's face. She quickly replaced it with a snort of disgust though as she sauntered over to her desk with Michelle hot on her heels. _

"_You going to pick up them samples or what Webster?" Michelle snapped angrily_

"_Yes I'm going now, not that it's any business of yours!" Sally bit back, turning her attention back to Frank, only to be hit with a stab of jealousy. His gaze was intently focused on his ex-fiancée as she sat in her chair with her head down and attempting to shield her emotions from them. Clearing her throat, Sally addressed Frank, "I'll be back shortly."_

"_Yeah, thanks Sal." He responded warmly to her before looking back upon Carla._

"'_Chelle did you go leave me desk drawer open?" Carla asked curiously as Sally made her way towards the office door._

"_No, it weren't me." Michelle responded confusedly_

"_Oh that was me," Frank piped in, "sorry, but my pen ran out while I was on the phone with a client, and I needed to grab a fresh one," he said holding out the pen teasingly to her._

_Sally paused at the door, turning curiously to watch the exchange as she fixed her scarf. _

_Carla bit the inside of her lip and quickly shut the drawer next to her, "there's a cup full of pens right on the cabinet over there Frank, and our phone has a hold button an' all."_

"_Yes, well, I'll be sure to remember that for next time." Frank stated mischievously, his eyes darting up and down her body as she still refused to meet his gaze,_

"_Do that." She snapped back, and without lifting her eyes from her paperwork she then stated coolly, "I suggest you get a move on Sally, before you find my boot lodged well into your backside!" With a huff of discontent, Sally made her way out of the office…_

"Oh my God," Sally whispered as she made a beeline to the factory

"Sal?" her ex-husband called after her.

"What the 'ell was that about?" Tyrone asked

"I don't know," Tommy responded before gesturing to the two officers that emerged from their car, which had pulled up across from them, "but it looks like things are just starting to kick off."


	7. Chapter 7

_**A/N: As promised! :)**_

_**As a side note, if you haven't already, please check out the YouTube channel alikingsarmy. The video entitled "I Dreamed A Dream" was created **__**by the fabulous Leah and**_ based on the scene written in chapter 4 of this work of fiction. Thank you so much to Leah for bringing to life what I had simply imagined in my mind. :)

_**Please note this chapter contains references to non-consensual sex. If this offends you please skip over the paragraph written entirely in **italics;** but please also note that the subject matter of this fic is Rated M due to the sensitive subject matter touched upon throughout this story.**_

* * *

Sally flew down the steps of the factory, finding herself face to face with the crowd of machinists huddled around their machines and peering into the office curiously.

"What's going on?" she asked, slightly out of breath. The workers all exchanged glances with one another, all still unsure of just where their former colleague's loyalties lay.

"Well according to Michelle," Eileen began with a sigh, "Frank doesn't have the contract that he claims Carla 'signed' last night, which apparently handed over the business to him."

"How'd you mean?" Sally asked

"Oh, disappointed are you?" Sean sneered mockingly

"No, of course not, I'm completely relieved actually!" Sally snapped back, "if he doesn't have the contract that means that Mrs Connor still has ownership of this place right?"

"Well Frank's obviously not going to just let it go without a fight is he?" Julie interjected in a hushed whisper

"Yeah he's already called the police to throw her out for trespassing." Izzy finished

"Yeah **and **he came out here earlier trying to get us all to back him up," Sean said, "said we all knew it was common knowledge that Carla signed the contract last night. Talk about barking up the wrong tree! I told him where he could stick his contract an' all!"

"The cheek of him," Beth sniped, "gonna have us all out of a job and on our backsides and expecting us to back _him_ up?"

"I'm just worried about Mrs Connor," Fiz whispered, standing next to Hayley at the office window, "she looks like she's had the fight knocked right out of her last night." She shook her head in disgust as she looked upon her boss, still sat tucked under the bookie's arm, with Michelle protectively stationed right next to her. "I can't believe it's possibly all happened to her again in that flat last night."

"Well there's no doubt in any of our minds this time around is there," Hayley snapped uncharacteristically as she looked around at the workers' faces, "I think it's now safe to say _who_ was telling the truth all those months ago; isn't that right Eileen?"

"God don't make me feel worse about it or anything Hayles." Eileen grumbled under her breath.

"Excuse me?" A female voice interrupted them. They all turned towards the entrance of the factory to see two officers removing their hats, "we're looking for a Mr. Frank Foster?"

Sean pointed towards the office just as Frank came out onto the floor, "Oh thank goodness," he exhaled thankfully, "umm right in here officers please." He swung open the office door and threw his arm out, gesturing them in. Before he moved to follow them, his eyes locked on Sally's. '_Just keep coming back for more eh, Sal?'_ he thought, _'Hmm, let's see what sort of damage I can do here!'_ He flashed a grin and winked at her before closing the office door behind him.

"Uhh, what the 'ell was that?" Beth demanded, grabbing Sally's arm and spinning her to face her,

"What was what?" Sally asked, genuinely confused by Frank's reaction

"You know what!" Beth snapped, her face now centimeters from Sally's, "you're in on this whole thing aren't you?"

"No," Sally said shaking her head furiously, "no I'm not I swear."

"Bollocks!" Izzy chimed in, "I bet you and 'im have cooked this whole situation up between the pair of you!"

"No it's not true, I don't what he's playin' at." Sally screeched defensively, "I want nothing more to do with that animal!"

"Yeah right," Sean rolled his eyes.

"It's true! That's why I came here! To do whatever I could to help Mrs Connor," Sally's eyes began to tear up, "to do whatever I could to make things right."

"Oh crisis of conscience now eh Webster?" Eileen sneered, "the truth is, no matter when you found out, you knew about his plans to screw Carla out of this place and send us all packin' and you still said nowt about it! Typical Sally Webster: saving your own backside while shipping everyone else up the creek."

"_**What the 'ell is going on out 'ere!"**_ a voice boomed, taking them all by surprise. Silence befell the group as Carla slowly made her way to the bickering machinists. She paused momentarily and inhaled sharply as a throbbing pain pulsed through her lower body

"Are you alright Mrs Connor?" Hayley asked, immediately jumping to her boss's side. Her fingers lightly touched the skin of Carla's wrist, and as though deja vu overtook them, once again the factory boss gently grasped Hayley's hand within her own for support as she continued to edge closer to the group.

"Yeah, I'm fine Hayley," she responded softly, giving the older woman's hand a gentle squeeze, before focusing her attention on her workers, "Look, I know you're all on edge alright?" she began in a hushed tone, her voice hoarse and cracking, "but I am in there trying to save this place, and all your jobs to boot. So can you all just please," she closed her eyes tightly, "just put aside your differences and your pettiness and let me get on with this?" She looked over her shoulder towards the office then back to the machinists, her voice dropping to a shaky whisper, "I'm sure you can all understand how much more difficult it has become for me to be in the same room as him right now." At their sympathetic looks she continued, "so the faster we get on with this, the faster we can all get out of 'ere, okay?" Her eyes locked on Sally, "except you of course, I'll need you to stay behind. Once we get this whole situation sorted, I'll need a little pet for a certain job," she leaned in close with a mocking smile, "can't think of anyone better than you Sal?"

Sally swallowed nervously, her eyes overflowing with tears of shame and guilt as Carla turned once more and offered a small reassuring smile to her workforce before making her way back into the office.

"Sorry about that," she smiled apologetically to the police officers as she gingerly sat back down in the chair, "as you can imagine this state of limbo has seemed to have gotten their knickers in a twist," she snickered, "no pun intended of course."

"That's perfectly alright Mrs. Connor," the red-headed female officer nodded understandingly before turning towards all in the small office, "like I was saying before we were interrupted, I'm DC Sammie King, and this is DC Antony O'Brien. Now we were informed that this call made is about a trespassing charge? Mr. Foster?"

"Yes officer," Frank put on his best gentlemanly persona and rising to his feet, "this woman is my ex-fiancée, and now ex-business partner. She put me through an enormous amount of grief these past few months so she could carry on an adulterous affair with this alcoholic bookie-"

DC King raised her hand to halt him further, "Mr. Foster," she began firmly, "I am not interested in your sordid history. Please just get to the trespassing aspect of the story."

"But this all leads into it," Frank interjected, his frustration at not being able to sway their opinions against Carla becoming evident

"Mr. Foster, trespassing is a very black and white offence." DC King stated aggressively, "There are no gray areas here. If she is not supposed to be in this building we shall remove her, if she refuses to be removed we shall arrest her. Now I'll not ask you again, please get to the trespassing point in this story."

"Fine," Frank snorted derisively, "I bought her out of her shares of this factory yesterday afternoon. She signed the contract giving me full ownership and yet today, she shows up here wanting to 'tie up loose ends'. Now, as we are a client-based company I couldn't allow her to just call all our contacts and sway them to simply follow her wherever she may chose to set up shop next. She refused to leave, so I called you. Now can you please do your job and remove her?"

"Mrs Connor," DC King turned to face Carla, "did you sell your shares of your business to Mr Foster?"

Carla crossed her arms in front of her chest and slowly shook her head, "no" she whispered firmly, "no I have absolutely no idea what he's talking about."

"You've got to be kidding me!" Frank snapped in frustration

"Mr Foster please," the detective turned back to Carla, "is this the first you've heard of him offering to buy you out?"

"Oh no," Carla responded shaking her head, "he's offered numerous times in the past month. He hasn't gotten his way though and so is now obviously trying to boot me out through the back door. But the thing is officer, I own sixty percent of this factory, which means _I'm_ the boss; and as per our agreement, which he himself drew up, he can't boot me out, without me selling out."

"And you did not sell out?" DC King reiterated

"Well let me put it this way, his last monetary offer was for less than half of what my shares are worth," A leisurely smile spread across her face, "what on earth could possibly entice me enough to sell out my business, that I have rebuilt from the ground up, for such a ridiculously low price?"

"You lying little sl-" Frank sneered through gritted teeth

"Mr Foster, I wont ask you again to calm down," the detective warned him again, "so it appears what we have is a 'he said, she said' case here. Easily solved though, if I can just see the contract in question please."

With a menacing glare in Carla's direction, Frank reached into his briefcase and pulled out a copy of the contract.

"Oi!" Michelle uttered towards the officers taking a step in front of her best friend and blocking her from Frank, "I 'ope you are taking note of his trying to intimidate her here. This man is a dangerous, lying, vicious piece of scum and he will do anyth-"

"'Chelle," Carla whispered, her hand reaching out and gently grasping her sister-in-law's, "just leave it eh?"

"Carla," Michelle hissed

"Please 'Chelle," Carla pleaded softly her head falling tenderly into her free hand, "please just stop alright?"

With a warning sneer towards Frank, Michelle moved back to the stand beside Carla, her hand placing itself protectively on her shoulder.

"You okay love?" Peter asked as he softly brushed a stray hair from Carla's face and tucked it behind her ear, "do you want me to get you anything?"

"Yeah uhh," Carla exhaled roughly, an involuntary moan escaping her lips, "could you get me another few paracetamol from my purse please and some water to wash them down with."

"Sure love," Peter rose to his feet to collect her a glass of water from the kitchen

DC King continued to flip through the contract Frank had handed to her; "Mr Foster? Mrs Connor's signature is not on this document."

"Yeah I know," Frank stated, pointing to the contract, "That is a copy. My solicitor drew up three copies altogether, and she-" he pointed to where Carla sat hunched over in her chair, "-she stole the original, the one with both our signatures on it, last night."

"Ohh now I 'stole it'," Carla mimicked him, her fingers coming up and making the motion for quotation marks as she patronized him, "you know, I'm really not in the mood for this," she said as she sat up straight, "I've been in 'ospital all mornin'. I'm exhausted, and I would like this done and over with."

"Mrs. Connor," DC King began gingerly, her concern over Carla's ever paling complexion rising to the surface, "did you take the original contract last night."

"No," Carla answered truthfully, "I didn't take the original, because there is and never was any contract that I signed, giving him total ownership of _my _business."

DC King shrugged, "Can you produce the original contract Mr Foster?"

"How can I produce it when she stole it?" Frank shouted in sheer anger

DC King threw up her hands on either side of her, "What about witnesses?"

Frank turned his piercing gaze onto Carla once more. "Now why didn't I think of that earlier?" he responded evilly, his eyes slowly roaming over his ex-fiancée from head to toe, "witnesses; oh yes officer! I have a witness, in fact , I have two."

Carla used the distraction of Peter handing her the tablets and a glass of water to avoid eye contact with Frank as he scanned her greedily from top to bottom. She popped the pills into her mouth, closed her eyes, and took a mouthful of the cool, clear liquid. Keeping her eyes squeezed tightly closed, she took slow deep breaths to calm the rising panic within her.

_Witnesses._

During her earlier delight in burning the contract over the sink in Michelle's flat, she had forgotten entirely about Jenny and Anne.

Swallowing the lump forming in her throat, she slowly blinked back into focus and pinned her tormentor with determined eyes.

She would go down fighting this, but in her heart she knew the bastard once again had her in checkmate position...

* * *

"How long have we been waiting 'ere?" Beth moaned from her work station, her head pressed upon her folded arms

"About forty-five minutes now," Hayley answered looking at her watch.

"Well what the flammin' 'eck is taking her so long?" Sean inquired, his arms crossed in front of him, "she moves fast when she wants to, but when it comes to dishing out some torment to our Mrs Connor, Anne Foster certainly knows how to keep us all waiting."

"Poor Mrs. Connor," Fiz whispered sympathetically, "She looks to be getting worse with every passing minute."

"She's probably not had a decent meal or sleep for the past thirty-six hours or so." Sally spoke up quietly from next to her, "on top of everything else, it's bound to take its toll."

"Well if there's one consolation to us just hanging about here instead of in the pub, it's that we get to gaze more upon Officer O'Gorgeous there." Eileen murmured appreciatively

"Ooo I know; I keep imagining what his chest and abs look like…" Sean trailed off

"I reckon I could scrub my laundry on his stomach…" Eileen said dreamily

"Irish?" Beth piped in

"Scottish." Sean answered

"Aye..." Eileen and Beth responded together, nodding their collective appreciation.

The main doors opened and closed loudly causing another bout of silence to befall the factory.

"Oh here we go everyone," Sean chimed as Anne walked down the steps and towards the office. DC O'Brien stepped outside the office and positioned himself in front of the door, raising his hand to halt Mrs. Foster in her approach.

Inside the office DC King turned to the apprehensive group, "Now I just want to reiterate what I've already stated here: the witness statements do not supplant the contract evidence-wise. Should Mrs. Foster's account re-affirm what both Mr Foster told us in person, and what Ms Sumner confirmed via the telephone, then I'm afraid Mrs. Connor that I'll have to ask you to vacate these premises and consult with your solicitor. Are we clear?" Carla nodded meekly.

"I don't see 'ow this is fair," Michelle stated rolling her eyes, her arms crossed across her chest, "his witnesses consist of a woman he's sleeping with and his mother."

"It is unfortunate Ms Connor, but that is why having a neutral party is always advised when dealing with agreements and contracts. Most other witnesses are generally biased to one party or the other." DC King turned her attention to a confidant Frank, "That being said Mr. Foster, should Mrs Foster not confirm your version of events, but Mrs Connor's and Mr. Barlow's version of events instead, then Mrs. Connor is free to come and go as she pleases until you can produce the contract in question. I also suggest you consult with your solicitor no matter what occurs here in the next few minutes to decide if and how to proceed further. Agreed?"

"Absolutely," Frank smiled with assurance.

"Alright," DC King gestured to her partner, who escorted Anne into the office. "Mrs. Foster, I am DC Sammie King,"

"Pleasure to meet you," Anne greeted her thinly, her hands clasped in front of her stomach

"My partner and I were called here to settle a dispute between your son and Mrs Connor. Apparently there is some disagreement over ownership of this business from a meeting that was held in this very office yesterday afternoon. Were you present at this meeting?"

"I was," Anne responded confidently, her eyes casting over Carla

"Could you please tell us what the purpose of this meeting was?"

"My son set up the meeting to have Mrs Connor sell him her shares of the business." Anne responded

"And did Mrs Connor show up to this meeting?" DC King asked, glancing over to ensure her partner was taking sufficient notes

"She did. It's not the first time my son has offered to buy her out; he's been doing it for the past month. But it _is_ the first time he had the paperwork drawn up." Anne stated

"And at this meeting, the one that occurred here yesterday, did Mrs. Connor sign her shares of the business to Mr. Foster on this paperwork?" DC King asked as Frank's smiled grew larger and more patronizing by the second. "Mrs. Foster?" DC King pressed during the extended silence

"No," Anne answered her eyes fixing upon her son's crestfallen face, "no, once again, Mrs. Connor turned my son's offer down."

"So Mrs. Connor did not sign any paperwork turning over her shares to your son."

Anne turned to look upon Carla, who now stood deathly still by her desk, her breath hitched painfully in her chest. "No," Anne whispered firmly, "no she did not sign any paperwork."

"Sorry Mr Foster," DC King turned to an astonished and surprisingly silent Frank, as Carla breathed out a collective sigh of stunned relief, "there's nothing more we can do here. Contact your solicitor for any further action you may wish to take."

"This is ludicrous!" Frank suddenly snapped, "she's just getting revenge on me because I kicked her out of my house!"

"Mr Foster," the detective addressed him warningly

"This is absurd! I will not let you get away with this Carla! She signed the damned contract! This place belongs to me-"

"Mr Foster," DC King's voice boomed loudly, "If you do not calm down sir, I will place you under arrest for threatening and aggressive behaviour!"

Frank closed his eyes and took short controlled breathes. His fury was barely contained though, as he clenched and unclenched his fists tightly at his sides.

"Sorry for the trouble," DC King apologized politely to Carla, "But I still recommend you speak with your solicitor as well in order to figure out your next steps. We'll see ourselves out." With a nod to Peter and Michelle, the detectives walked out of the office.

"Et tu Mother?" Frank sneered angrily, taking a menacing step towards Anne, "So it wasn't enough that you betrayed my trust by exposing Jenny and I to Sally eh? You just had to go that one step further didn't you? Just had to exact your revenge for my kicking you out of the house by betraying me - your own son -, to stand up for this-" he waved his hand in Carla's direction, "-this cheating slut as well-"

"I'm sorry baby," Carla interrupted, turning to Peter, "that blow to the head last night must 'ave made me a little fuzzy, but-" she gestured to Frank with her head, "is he basically saying that he was screwed over twice?"

"Yes," Peter smiled evilly, "yes he is, love."

"Hmmm," Carla looked pensive for a moment, before turning back to Frank and taking a step towards him. From behind her back, she pulled out the cap Steve had been wearing earlier and tossed it on the desk in front of the man who had tormented her for months.

With a patronizing snort, Frank peered into the cap but his smirk faded quickly from his face and he reached in and pulled out the small piece of torn paper, his eyes noting the burn marks lining the edges. Although the burnt scrap was blank, he knew it was part of the original contract he had been looking for since the night before. He slowly raised his gaze, locking it on Carla with a menacing sneer, his blood pumping furiously in his veins and his breathing becoming heavy and shallow.

Mustering all the courage she could under his intensity, Carla held his stare and whispered, "screwed out of full ownership of this factory," she smirked, "that's the hat-trick."

Unable to control his fury any longer, Frank lunged at her with a predatory growl, his fingers grasping her upper arms in a vice grip before she had the chance to sidestep him. Immediately fearing the danger of being raped again, her body froze beneath his grip as flashbacks of the night before came flooding over her…

"_No, no, p-please," she weakly begged from beneath him, her free hand feebly pressing against his chest; a desperate but futile attempt to halt his vicious assault, "p-p-please s-st-stop! Stop, Frank pl-pl-please n-no."_

_Just as they had in September, her pleas seemed to only egg him on further, as he roughly kissed her lips to silence her. When he broke the kiss he grasped her leg tightly, shifting it into a more desirable position that would allow him deeper access and less resistance. The pain caused her to raise her hips slightly in an attempt to lessen the discomfort, but Frank took advantage of the movement, and smirked down at her, "That's it baby," he whispered almost lovingly, "I knew you wanted this as much as I did…" _

_His assault increased in pressure and speed, and she threw her head back in sheer anguish; she opened her mouth to scream but was unable to make a sound louder than a whimper. The hand that had earlier been trying to push him away, now gripped the material of his shirt tightly between her fingers as she tried in desperation to ease the rough movement he was inflicting upon her battered body; her now barely audible cries continuing to fall on deaf ears…_

Terror seized her limbs into paralysis once more; the horrifying phenomenon almost as bad as death itself. His eyes burned into hers, his face mere inches from her own. And as he pressed her into the cabinet behind her, Carla knew for a fact that in that moment she _would _prefer to be dead. Yes, she would rather be dead than experience that feeling of terror yet again; a feeling so encompassing and powerful, it rendered her utterly immobile, making her feel as heavy as lead, nothing more than empty weight.

She could faintly hear Sean's voice out on the factory floor shouting for the police to return and could feel Frank's weight being pried off of her by a rage-fueled Peter. The sound of footfalls pounding down the factory steps and barreling into the office hammered in her ears as she slid down the cabinet to the cold floor beneath her.

"Oi!" DC King shouted as she peeled Frank from Peter's vice-like grip; DC O'Brien slipped his arms under the bookie's shoulders and up around the back of his neck, bracing him into a headlock and pulling him away from his partner. DC King kneed Frank in the back of his knees, causing him to crumple enough for her to slam his face and chest onto the desk, holding him securely in place with her elbow and knee.

"Right," she stated angrily, pulling out a pair of handcuffs, "I warned you Mr. Foster, so you leave me no choice!" She yanked his arms one by one behind his back and fastened them into the metal cuffs, receiving sharp grunts of discomfort and frustration from him. Once secured, she grasped the back of his suit jacket, and after pulling him to a standing position, she leaned in close to his ear, "perhaps a night cooling off in a cell will calm you down eh?" She gritted out before shoving him forward towards the office door.

Carla squeezed her eyes closed tightly, concentrating on breathing in through her nose and exhaling shakily through pursed lips in a thinly veiled attempt to quell her racing heart. The shouting had continued unabated around her as the police subdued Frank, but she had retreated so far into her protective shell that she could not distinguish whose voice belonged to whom. Her trembling fingers gripped her hair on either side of her head as she tried to drown out the drama occurring just steps from her. As Frank was being hauled out of the office, she felt a pair of hands place themselves protectively upon her shoulders. She flinched involuntarily and opened her eyes to apologize for her reaction to Michelle...

...only to find herself face to face with a concerned looking Anne.


	8. Chapter 8

_**A/N: A huge thank you to Noeme and LoveCarlaConnor for all their support and motivation in sparking my love for writing again. This chapter is dedicated to them. :)**_

* * *

Carla continued to breath erratically, her eyes wide and confused as she focused on the woman crouched down before her. Her fingers were digging into the tiles beneath her hands, her back pressing itself further into the cabinet behind her.

"Are you alright?" Anne asked her tentatively, her eyes awash with sympathy and concern. Unable to bring herself to answer, the young woman instead continued to tremble under her touch, turning her head slightly to glance at the fingers that remained placed on her shoulder. Sensing her discomfort Anne withdrew her hand, intent on giving her the space she needed, but as Carla hunched her shoulders forward instantly, automatically wrapping her arms about herself, Anne couldn't help but note the fresh bruises marring the factory boss's wrists.

'_Where did those bruises come from?'_ she wondered, her brow furrowing curiously. _'I didn't see any marring her skin at the contract signing yesterday afternoon-' _Her eyes continued up, now scanning Carla's forlorn face, her scrutinizing gaze catching the dried remnants of blood on her forehead. _'In fact, where did that gash come from as well?'_ She asked herself as she swallowed the apprehensive lump forming in her throat. Almost instantaneously, her mind flashed back to the number of police cars lining the street outside the bookie's flat earlier…

…and she immediately felt sick.

She was snapped back to the present upon hearing the main factory doors slam shut, and she gingerly shifted towards Carla,

"Do you think you can you stand?" she asked lightly. At the raven-haired woman's tentative nod, she extended her arms before her, "Here", she offered warmly, "let me help you up." But as she reached towards her, Carla eyes widened in fear and she instinctively jolted, pushing her body back and colliding more painfully with the cabinet behind her. Anne could feel her heart breaking at the sight and bit her lip to quell the tears from escaping behind her eyes. The woman who normally appeared so strong and so feisty, looked like nothing more now than a frightened child. _'Oh Frank,' _Anne cried mentally, _'what have you done?'_

Trying again, this time more slowly, Anne successfully managed to grasp Carla's arms in her hands and gently pull her to a standing position. She didn't miss the wince the younger woman experienced as she rose to her full height, and her maternal instincts took over, "Are you alright?" she prodded gently, "do you want to sit down?" she asked her, gesturing softly to the office chair beside her.

Carla couldn't help the chuckle that passed her lips, and raised her eyes to meet Anne's, "up, down, up, down, eh?" she whispered hoarsely

Anne chuckled herself as the realization of helping Carla to stand from a seated position, only to offer a seat immediately after, fell upon her, "well a chair is much more comfortable than a floor," she stated softly, her gentle eyes gazing deeply into the tired, green ones before her.

"Oi!" A loud voice shrilled from behind her, "You can take your hands off of her right this second lady, unless you're hankerin' for a beatin'!"

Anne quickly found herself face to face with an irate Michelle, as Peter quickly pulled Carla towards him, holding her at arm's length as his eyes traipsed over her shaking body.

"Carla, did he hurt you?" he asked her in a panicked voice. As his girlfriend shook her head timidly, Peter steadied his breathing and lovingly cupped her cheek, tilting it so she was looking into his concerned brown eyes. "Are you okay, love?" he asked gently

For a moment she focused hard on responding with a clear and strong voice, no longer wanting to show those who continued to stand around the office her extreme vulnerability. But as she locked her gaze on her lover's, she found no sound making its way past her trembling lips. Her eyes began to water anew, and she rubbed her lips together in a vain attempt to halt the sob that was threatening to emerge.

A crushing pressure arose within Peter's chest at seeing her obvious distress, and he carefully pulled her into his embrace, his hands stroking her hair soothingly and planting kisses along her hairline, all the while whispering that everything would be okay…

…a promise even he wasn't so certain of…

"I think you should let her sit down Peter," Anne offered politely, "she looks very weak."

"And whose fault is that eh?" Michelle snapped, drawing the older woman's attention back to her as Peter gingerly aided Carla into the chair, "Your _son_," she spat venomously, "that's who!"

"'Chelle-" Carla weakly called, "please stop…".

"But Carla-"

"No 'Chelle, just stop…" Carla whispered firmly, her eyes finally meeting her sister-in-law's, "please ju-, just stop…"

"Okay," her friend moved quickly to her side, dropping instantly to her knees and grasping the factory boss's forearm in her hand, "okay I'm sorry," she acquiesced gently, giving the soft flesh below her fingertips a reassuring squeeze, "what can I do? What do you need babe?"

From the corner of her eye Carla could see the factory workers hovering around the windows of the office and felt incredibly exposed. She could almost perfectly envision them so clearly in her mind, practically drooling at the prospect of new gossip regarding their boss…

"You could uhhh," she began hoarsely, "you could let that lot know they still 'ave jobs to come to tomorrow, and then send them home."

Michelle nodded her understanding and stood up, about to make her way onto the factory floor when she heard her friend's voice again,

"Except Sally…" Carla raised her head slowly, her eyes fixing on her friend's questioning gaze, "Send Sally in 'ere would you?"

"You sure?" Michelle's eyes suspiciously darted to Anne, conveying an unspoken warning to the raven-haired woman still hunched over in her leather chair

"Yeah," Carla nodded with a crooked smile, "yeah I'm sure."

Biting back her disproval, Michelle opened the door and stepped out of the office to address the workforce, "Right you lot…"

Whilst rubbing his hand comfortingly on his lover's back, Peter watched as Anne anxiously shifted from foot to foot. Her fingers were nervously grazing over scattered items on her son's desk, as though trying to subconsciously keep herself occupied and removed from the situation she presently found herself in.

"Why?" Peter's voice drew both women's gazes, but it was clear of which one he was addressing, "why did you do it?"

The older woman looked from the bookie to Carla, her eyes lingering sympathetically there longer than usual before drifting back again, "I-I don't know really," she stuttered. But as Peter narrowed his eyes suspiciously at her she quickly shook her head and plastered on a sweet smile, "anyways what does why I did it really matter now? Carla has her factory back. Everything is put right again; no harm no foul."

"_No harm no foul_?" The phrase practically dripped of venom as they pushed past Peter's gritted teeth, "what? You think that by righting _one_ of your son's many wrongs that will somehow cancel out everything else he's done to her?" Despite the anger raging through his system, the bookie's voice remained steady and cool. There was an accusatory edge to his tone, one that he couldn't remove no matter how hard he tried, but he refused to let his temper get the better of him, not when Carla needed him to be her rock. "Have you seen the state of her?" he asked, his hand lightly outstretched in front of his chest and gesturing towards his girlfriend, carefully gauging the older woman's reactions as her eyes reluctantly roamed over Carla again, "there. The result of your son's latest attack. Forced his way into our flat hours before dawn, exacted his revenge on her again, -"

"How do you know that it was Frank?" Anne asked rather coldly, surprising herself with the chilliness of her tone. _'Old habits die hard…'_

Carla felt the precise moment when Anne's words successfully got under her lover's skin. His fingers subconsciously dug into her back so fiercely she could feel the pinch of his nails through her thick coat. The action caused her to grunt in discomfort, drawing Anne's attention to her. The older woman watched as the factory boss rubbed her lips together, her head bowed and eyes squeezing closed in preparation for the shouting and accusations that was now inevitable. Shifting her now uncomfortable gaze back to Peter, she involuntarily took a step back; the bookie's eyes were practically bulging from their sockets, his mouth hung agape at her, the top left side of his lip raising and lowering itself twitchingly into a sneer, "are you serious?" he ground out gruffly.

"Oh, I'm not getting into this," Anne stated haughtily, grabbing her scarf and wrapping it around her neck, "despite what you may think _Mr. Barlow_, I didn't come here to argue with anyone-"

"Then why did you come then? Eh?" Peter snapped loudly as Michelle entered the office followed by a rather timid Sally, "if you are so convinced of your son's proclaimed innocence, then why the act with the coppers earlier, eh? Why not just back up Frank's side of the story to stick it to Carla and get your precious son his revenge?"

"Because my son has taken his revenge too far!" The shouted words had escaped her lips before she could stop herself. As all eyes fell upon her, she found herself caught between the proverbial rock and hard place. She couldn't tell them what she knew. After all, she barely had time to wrap her head around it herself. Wanting to avoid any further interrogation and possibly saying something she would later regret, Anne made ready to storm out of the office; but it was the tear-filled green eyes that were fixed quizzically upon her that halted her mid-step. There was an overwhelming pang of guilt coursing through her chest as she stared into the pleading eyes of the woman she had grown to despise over the past few months.

She exhaled deeply. She couldn't leave now, not without a glimmer of an explanation. Removing her gaze from Carla's, Anne focused her attention back on Peter, "Look, I was all for Frank exacting his revenge for the charges and court fiasco by buying Carla out of her shares for a song. But the way he went about it, using Sally, using that Jenny Sumner woman, and then calling the Gaming Commission on you –" she swallowed hard before shaking her head and pursing her lips, "he was getting out of control. I wasn't going to sit back and watch my son get taken over by his lust for revenge. He needed to be stopped. He'll understand why I did what I did in the long run, even if he doesn't see it right now." She brushed past Michelle and Sally, opening the door and stepping out of the office before turning back to gaze at Carla, "besides," she said, "he can exact his revenge better on you by proving you are not the sharp, businesswoman you proclaim yourself to be, just like he proved you to be a liar and cheat in court. You'll sell your shares eventually Carla, but for what they're worth and because you'll know in your heart that it is my son that can best run this business and not _you._" Turning sharply on her heel, Anne marched out of the office, her eyes lingering on the scaffolding to her right for a few long moments, before exiting the factory.

Back in the office, Sally slowly stepped forward, "Carla?" her voice trembled as tears spilled down her cheeks, "Carla I am so sorry!"

"When did you find out Sally?" Carla asked, her eyes not rising from a spot on the far wall

"What?" Sally asked in confusion.

"When . did . you . find . out . that . Frank . was . going . to . ship . this . place . up . the . creek?" Carla gritted out as though speaking to an errant child.

"A week or so ago," came the meek reply, "but I swear I didn't know the full extent of his plans-"

"Right," Michelle interrupted with a scoff, "did you know he was going to lay off all the workers, your former _colleagues_?" she sneered, "**Well?** **Did you**?" she shouted angrily when Sally struggled to respond

"Yes." Sally whispered, her eyes shifting back to Carla who simply let out a humourless chuckle and shook her head in response.

"Let me guess," Peter interjected as he continued to rub his hand along Carla's back soothingly, "he assured you that _your _job were safe? Am I right?"

"Yes," Sally sniffled, "yes he did."

"He played you like a violin Sally," Carla responded sadly, "like he played us all." Lifting her eyes to the blonde woman she offered a crooked smile, "how did you find out? Cause I'm more than sure he didn't just spill over some-" she paused as bile rose to her throat, "pillow talk?"

Sally's eyes darted from one occupant of the office to the other, "no, I –uhh" she shifted her stance to a more firm one, "no, I found it by snooping through his email."

Carla nodded her head in understanding, her lips pursing as she exhaled deeply, "Tell you what Sally," she began slowly, "I'll be willing to give you your old job back as a machinist-"

"Carla-" Michelle whispered warningly

"If," Carla continued, ignoring her best friend's interjection, "if you are willing to do something for me."

"What?" Sally asked with a sense of foreboding

The factory boss gestured across from her, where Frank's laptop remained opened upon his desk, "still remember the password?"

* * *

As the cold March air whipped about her, Anne remained seated on the bench outside the salon on Coronation Street. Her eyes glancing to the police officers removing the yellow tape from around the bookie's shop and the entrance to the flat above it. A single tear escaped her right eye as she shifted her gaze back towards the factory…the place that would forever haunt her memories now…

**Frank leaped at Carla, grabbing her purse to search for the microphone he was sure was planted on her. They both struggled with one another, unaware that someone had quietly entered the factory just moments before and now stood underneath the rafter, listening intently to their exchange.**

**From her vantage point, the shadowed figure viewed the struggle between her son and his ex-fiancée, watching with scrutinizing eyes as Frank found a bottle of whiskey in Carla's purse and chuckled rather evilly. And all the while, as she listened to her son mock the visibly frightened woman above her, Anne began feeling that irkingly sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She had felt it twice before: the first was when she took over as Frank's proxy in Underworld, and seeing firsthand the almost truthful pleading in Carla's eyes as she spoke the words that have haunted her soul ever since, **_**"You just can't accept that your precious son is capable of what he did, well he is…"**_** The truth is, that **_**one**_** encounter aside, Anne had always believed Carla was lying about the rape. And if today's events had not transpired a little differently she would have believed it still. After all, there was no way Carla would be here in this factory by herself if she truly feared Frank.**

**But today **_**had**_** transpired differently…**

**Today, that irkingly sinking feeling returned full force to the pit of Anne's stomach when her son admitted to setting up Peter with the Gaming Commission. The look of pure jealousy on his face as he watched Carla leave with the bookie**

**Anne had always known her son had a tendency to control those around him; control their mannerisms, their future…**

…**control them…**

**But never did she ever think he'd go so far; to take a woman's dignity like that, it just didn't seem like something her son would do. Not **_**her**_** Francis.**

**But even now, high above her, the way he was taunting his ex, the poison dripping from his tongue as he said her lover's name. '**_**Jealousy**_**' Anne shivered forebodingly. It hadn't escaped her attention that Carla continued to shake like a leaf. The strong, feisty façade she wore to the world did not exist in this darkening factory anymore; Carla was absolutely terrified. **

**"I'd rather be an alcoholic than a rapist." The words were stated venomously, but as she tried to brush past him, Frank apprehended her angrily. Gripping both of her arms he pinned her brutally to the scaffolding. **

**Anne watched in horror as Carla's hand lost grip of the railing behind her, her arms now being pinned to her sides. The anger emulating off of her son continued to frighten her as she watched the struggle, **_**'was this how he pinned her that night?**_**' Anne thought before quickly shaking her head, **_**'No, no! This has all just gotten out of hand." **_**she tried to convince herself**_** "She's just angered him now. He never would do that to a woman, not my son.'**_

**"I was cleared. In a court of law."**

**"Wh-why can't you just admit it, eh? Is it guilt, is it shame- or are you just not man enough?"Carla sneered at him, pushing against Frank with a fierceness that no doubt surprised them all. But Anne knew it was an act, and more fearfully she knew her son did as well…and horrifyingly, he seemed to be enjoying it.**

**"Ooo now she's challenging my masculinity." He taunted her chillingly**

**"Oh I wanna hear the words come out of your mouth!" She gritted her teeth, and from her spot beneath them, Anne could see that Carla was willing the tears not to fall as she pushed against his grip again.**

**"Which words Carla? Which words?" he patronized her. "I raped you?" Anne held her breath, "I raped you." His tone confirmed what Anne had been dreading, "I **_**raped **_**you. ****There's your confession!" he repeated himself again, as though speaking to a child.**

**Anne's hand covered her mouth as she watched the exchange, unable to quite comprehend that her son had just admitted to the brutal crime he had been accused of. She felt herself crumble at her knees and placed her hand against the wall to steady herself, taking deep breaths as tears escaped her eyes.**

**"Now does that make you feel better, only I did feel bad about it," Anne's eyes looked up, hoping to see some semblance of the gentle, loving son she had raised all those years prior, but her heart splintered anew as he spoke again; "-for a little bit."**

**She heard the soft sob involuntarily escape Carla's lips and felt her own begin to quiver, her son had no remorse. "But you betrayed me," Frank's chilling voice whispered, "and it was your fault."**

**At this Carla pushed angrily against him in fury, but he had the upper hand and his grip tightened on her arms, "No, no, no, you should know by now, you picked the wrong person to fight with." He stated with a mocking cruelty, continuously pushing his victim back into the railing until she stopped fighting back **

**"Today was the best," he said smugly as his arousal grew, "taking **_**your**_** factory. Hey, that means I've screwed you twice." Anne could see Carla's body become more rigid as Frank leaned over her, his arm snaking down around her waist, and she strained to hear her son's now lowered voice, "you fancy goin' for the hat trick?" **

"You alright love?" a voice startled her from her thoughts.

"Yes I'm-I'm ummm-" Anne stuttered in confusion, "I'm not really sure, umm, how I got here..."

"Come on," Stella gestured, helping the woman to her feet, "let's go inside and get you a brandy eh?"

Nodding her consent, Anne allowed the barmaid to wrap her arm about her shoulders and steer her towards the Rovers Return but not before her eyes drifted back to the factory. Every fibre of her being was telling her that she had to make things right, but in her heart she knew it wouldn't be so easy as to simply turn in her son, no matter how much of a monster she thought him to be…


End file.
